Category Archives: poem

“Love Poem” by Richard Taylor

Fade into Bolivia

I am your postage stamp—
licked, applied to paper,
cancelled, sent far away.
Feel my serrated edges.

-Richard Taylor
Fading into Bolivia
Accents Publishing

“Spring Storm” by Greg Pape

Animal Time

A pause in the light,
in birdsong.
The weightless end
of an hour falls.
A storm blows in
over the Bitterroots.
Wind pushes flurries
into the silvery valley light,
finding voice in bare limbs
of cottonwoods, already budding,
waving, humming low notes
under the green brushes of pines.
All down the valley
doors are closing.
All down the valley horses
are turning east
as a backlit curtain of snow
closes on the southern vista.
One gray and black
bearpaw appaloosa
on a fenced half acre
runs tight circles in the dirt,
throwing its head, shaking its mane,
rocking forward, cocking
its spotted haunches,
kicking the teeth out of the wind.

Greg Pape,
Animal Time
Accents Publishing

Greg Pape

“Gruff Passage” by Thom Ward

Etcetera's MistressWinter won’t give itself over to spring. She said,
If you start out depressed, everything else is a bonus.
Each morning I piss excellence, was his response.
If we’re lucky, notes trudge out to us, and sometimes
we start singing upside down. Invisible trolls
smash old radiator pipes with their invisible hammers.
Hello to the firelight in scotch, goodbye to the smoke
in whiskey. Is that a sudden rush of comfort? Or just
another guy playing catch-and-release consumer?
The couch in my shrink’s office continues to bet against
me, and the bank plans to mortgage my shadow.
Travel Sunday morning in Saturday’s shoes: recall
how the weight of that leather will outlast us, except
for those embarrassments our children agreed to forgive.

Thom Ward,
Etcetera’s Mistress
Accents Publishing

“No Sapling Love” by Mary E. O’Dell

Bigger Than They Apear

We are two old oaks
rooted each in our patch of earth
leaning together
crowns near enough
for the sparrows to flit
through our mingled branches.

Mary E. O’Dell,
Bigger Then They Appear
(Accents Publishing)

“Before the Outing” by Roberta Beary

Deflection

i

my son’s boyfriend
three words i practice saying
alone in my room

ii

rainbow flag
father pretends
not to see

iii

not something
that’s contagious
still you step back
from my son
and his boyfriend

iv

rainbow flag
mother tiptoes around
the subject

v

with knife in hand
my son’s lover dissects
the last white peach

Roberta Beary,
Deflection
(Accents Publishing)

“IV” by Frederick Smock

Deer at Gethsemani

Pigeons, their wings clasped
behind them, pace to and fro
on the window-ledge, darkly
muttering to themselves

about what we cannot know.
Even here, on the top floor
of a downtown Vancouver hotel,
with a lovely view of the harbor,

the boat-house in Stanley Park
and snow-capped mountains,
the pigeons pace up and down
in the green gathering dusk,

muttering to the gargoyles
who grin and, darkly, agree.

Frederick Smock,
The Deer at Gethsemani: Eclogues
Accents Publishing

“Recommendation to God” by Bina Kals

Poet Dennis Preston reads “Recommendation to God” by Bina Kals. This poem was translated from the original Bulgarian by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer.

The videos in this series come from the North American Premiere of The Season of Delicate Hunger: Anthology of Contemporary Bulgarian Poetry at the Morris book shop.

“Recollection Rate” by Jude Lally

I'm Fine but Thanks for Asking

Ideas blow in rapidly
like cold fronts
on chilly autumn afternoons

Without the capability
to write
I seek means
to salvage dreams

Must be a way to get
them down before I forget;
maybe keep a tape recorder
by the bed

or rush to the computer
where the whole voluble world
awaits?

Which do I foster
and which surrender
to the subconscious?

10% make it to the hard drive—
the syntax casualties are enormous

Jude Lally,
I’m Fine but Thanks for Asking
Accents Publishing

“Bipolar” by Andrew Merton

Evidence that We Are Descended from Chairs

The crows are elsewhere today.

Shovel the coal from your eyelids.

Empty the wheelbarrow of your mind.

Regurgitate a circus.

Indulge your clamoring toes.

Shake out your sheets until all the potatoes are gone.

Make love to an iris, a pansy, a rose.

Discover the constellation Platypus.

Hurry. The crows are never gone for long.

Andrew Merton,
Evidence that We Are Descended from Chairs
Accents Publishing

 

“A Dream About the Wall and the Key” by Nikolay Boykov

The Season of Delicate Hunger

.            For Alex Miller

I slept nestled against a wall of doors
endless as an infinite wall
I woke up
in my mouth was a key
I unlocked the nearest door
there in a windowless room
nestled against the wall opposite the door
a man was sitting and sleeping
in his mouth was a key
I woke him up
and we set out to wake up
the other sleepers
behind the other doors of the white rooms
then I woke up

Nikolay Boykov,
translated from the Bulgarian
by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer
The Season of Delicate Hunger:
Anthology of Contemporary Bulgarian Poetry

(Accents Publishing)