Cat vs. Fauci
This poem is at least seventy years old and probably older than that. It has absolutely nothing to do with coronavirus and yet I can’t read it any other way.
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Countdown 2020, last 24 hours: Old wisdom for a new year
We’ve nearly reached the end, folks. The last day of our terrible no-good very bad year. To close out this series, I’ve selected a gentle poem, May Sarton’s “House of Gathering.” It’s like a deep cleansing breath. I taped it to a bench in a complex where my friend Sister Pat, 80 and going strong, […]
More2020 Countdown, day two: Take me to the river
On the second to last day of this sad and strange year, we turn to yet another poet who died in 2020. I left Lisel Mueller ‘s “Bedtime Story” on the banks of the Rouge River in suburban Michigan. Bedtime Story by Lisel Mueller The moon lies on the river like a […]
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2020 Countdown, day 18: stuck in the dog house
Eighteen more days till the end of 2020 and our stay-at-home life goes on and on and on and on. Here’s a Charles Bukowski poem for the stir-crazy. I taped to a no-parking sign in a quiet suburban neighborhood. wearing the collar by Charles Bukowski I live with a lady and four […]
More2020 Countdown, day 22: Can’t shop for this gift
Day 22 of the 2020 countdown finds us on a small pond in a nature center, contemplating contemplation. One of the biggest gifts this year brought us is time and space for contemplation. Priceless Gifts by Anna Swir translated by Czeslaw Milosz and Leonard Nathan An empty day without events. And that […]
More2020 Countdown, Day 23: there’s no place like home but I wish I could leave
According to latest statistics, over half of Americans under thirty now live with their parents. For the 23rd day before the end of 2020, a poem for people who’ve had to move back home. I left “Home is so Sad” on a “Please Slow Down” sign in a pretty suburban neighborhood. Young adults whose lives […]
MoreDay 24 of the Poem Elf 2020 Countdown
To kick off the countdown series, a poem at a coronavirus testing site— Susanna by Anne Porter Nobody in the hospital Could tell the age Of the old woman who Was called Susanna I knew she spoke some English And that she was an immigrant Out of a little country Trampled by […]
MoreMinutes to good riddance
Annus horribilis. Dumpster fire. Shit show. Fuster cluck. If nothing else 2020’s been a good year for swear words and rage. Since at least June we’ve been hearing, I can’t wait for this year to be over. As if with the flip of the calendar page life will suddenly improve. We know that’s just […]
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