I first listened to Amanda Gorman’s Inaugural Poem via radio broadcast on KPFA, but her gorgeous, unforgettable work is equally wondrous to watch or to read, as you prefer. You may do either or both below. Gorman perfectly captured a moment in the history of our “nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished” and an…
Hughes – the Promise of America was Meaningless Unless Universal Langston Hughes saw Trump coming at least as early as 1936, with the publication of his poem, Let America Be America again. I have journalist Paul Rosenberg to thank for reminding me. As the racist, overgrown child and tv con man who currently occupies the…
This week we’d like to wish Wendell Berry a wonderful 84th birthday. We’ve only just discovered this gem of a poem, graphic courtesy of The Berry Center.
When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
via Connie Madden’s daily poem. Gratitude What did you notice? The dew snail; the low-flying sparrow; the bat, on the wind, in the dark; big-chested geese, in the V of sleekest performance; the soft toad, patient in the hot sand; the sweet-hungry ants; the uproar of mice in the empty house; the tin music of…