Poetry

Dale M. Kushner 5-01-2000

Very soon now the light shall die.
The Great World will be rent—
ashes, sobbing seraphim, calves
born with crabbed feet. Rain
then the absence of rain.
Wild thunder pounds in my head.

I didn’t follow the holy man around
I never sat down to a meal with him

Loving him began this way: water
poured into emptiness
the bowl filling

I have been in the House of Yahweh.

Vassar Miller 11-01-1999

In the barnyard of my bone
Let the animals kneel down...

Ernest Mulbah 9-01-1999
A poem for my grandfather.
Murray Bodo 7-01-1999

---in memory of Denise Levertov, 1923-1997

Judith Yarnall 3-01-1999
for Grace Lorch

I accept the cardinal that comes to the tree...

Pamela Rice Porter 11-01-1998

Carver at market speaks to a tourist
Luanda, Angola

Mil Norman Risch 9-01-1998

The sky shifts pinks of light through louvered fingers...

Mary F.C. Pratt 9-01-1998

It rained and rained.

David Sparenberg 7-01-1998

I have come forth
to set my heart
on the ground

and to make a small
signal fire,
mixing smoke
with dust and clouds.

The blue-white
flame, with the orange
aura, bright
as the blood oranges
of the south,

this
will be the burning
of my soul.
How long
does a soul endure
in a changing place?

Martha Townley 5-01-1998

I am a needle sewing...

Larry Brown 3-01-1998

My Lord has lifted been in blackest blue...

Patricia Rourke 1-01-1998

The book of the Persian poet covered in red amber
promises riches, gold that filters through the cracks...

Anna Citrino 1-01-1998

Tufa twists into the sky...

Daniel Mills 11-09-1997
Advent, 1996
Steve Harris 9-01-1997

Mud sucking at bare feet,
St. Francis walks the rain