Ngwatilo

By Karl Shapiro As you say, (not without sadness), poets don’t see, they feel. And that’s why people who have turned to feelers seem like poets. Why Children seem poetic. Why when the sap rises in the adolescent heart the young write poetry. Why great catastrophes are stated in verse. Why lunatics are named for [...]

by Adam Zagajewski Try to praise the mutilated world. Remember June’s long days, and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew. The nettles that methodically overgrow the abandoned homesteads of exiles. You must praise the mutilated world. You watched the stylish yachts and ships; one of them had a long trip ahead of it, while [...]

When you are well we can walk in the rain pretend we are young again, that we are willful enough to splash in puddles. We don’t have to do it really. We can just smell the rain and the trees and skulk in the black cotton soil- Come home with me. (June 18 edit)

I will try not to look at you funny I am not perfect either. But when I do it’s really a question I want to ask God or Fate. But it’s good to see you.