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the gaps between stories

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Eden Phillpotts: The Learned [06 Sep 2003|02:36pm]
The Learned

The grey beards wag, the bald heads nod,
And gather thick as bees,
To talk electrons, gases, God,
Old nebulae, new fleas.
Each specialist, each dry-as-dust
And professorial oaf,
Holds up his little crumb of crust
And cries, "Behold the loaf!"

-Eden Phillpotts

This is one of my favorite poems, and probably the poem I will state as being The Favorite when I can't really decide. I do tend to lean towards (and eagerly anticipate) those more moving poems, the ones that hit hard, but. I also love clever, funny poetry (which I think is so under-rated) and this one says a lot, and it's sharp, and it never fails to make me smile. I need to read more Eden Phillpotts, I think.
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Ron Koertge: First Grade [29 Aug 2003|07:57pm]
[ mood | back ]

First Grade

Until then, every forest
had wolves in it, we thought
it would be fun to wear snowshoes
all the time, and we could talk to water.

So who is this woman with the gray
breath calling out names and pointing
to the little desks we will occupy
for the rest of our lives?

-Ron Koertge

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Pat Mora: La Migra [23 Apr 2003|05:06pm]
La Migra


Let's play La Migra
I'll be the Border Patrol.
You be the Mexican maid.
I get the badge and sunglasses.
You can hide and run,
but you can't get away
because I have a jeep.
I can take you wherever
I want, but don't ask
questions because
I don't speak Spanish.
I can touch you wherever
I want but don't complain
too much because I've got
boots and kick--if I have to,
and I have handcuffs.
Oh, and a gun.
Get ready, get set, run.


Let's play La Migra
You be the Border Patrol.
I'll be the Mexican woman.
Your jeep has a flat,
and you have been spotted
by the sun.
All you have is heavy: hat,
glasses, badge, shoes, gun.
I know this desert,
where to rest,
where to drink.
Oh, I am not alone.
You hear us singing
and laughing with the wind,
Agua dulce brota aqui,
aqui, aqui,
but since you
can't speak Spanish,
you do not understand.
Get ready.

-Pat Mora

i love this poem; it always (still?) gives me tingles when i read it. for those who don't know, the spanish in this poem reads "sweet water springs here, here, here."
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Li-Young Lee: One Heart [20 Apr 2003|10:32pm]
One Heart

Look at the birds. Even flying
is born

out of nothing. The first sky
is inside you, open

at either end of day.
The work of wings

was always freedom, fastening
one heart to every falling thing.

Li-Young Lee
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