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Walking on West Pennine Moors
Reading Chinese poetry
Ideograms dance before
Eyes like inky kids
Sleepy, time, time
Forgotten music from years
Long, long in the past
I find it hard to remain cheerful this summer, though I have one or two good reasons to celebrate—not counting the two named Nina and Charlie. One development worth toasting is the appearance of Vernon Duke’s Passport to Paris and Los Angeles Poems, a book packed with such gaiety that I can hardly keep from […]
“No Victors Here”: Alexander Voloshin in the Hollywood Bowl
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Menu d’été / Paella pas à pas…
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Walking Bare
I wasn’t made
for straight roads.
My bones remember
bare earth,
the breath before
the leap.
We walk stiff now—
feet wrapped in slaughter
and stolen skin.
Even the ground
pulls away.
But some nights
when the house forgets
to hum,
I move softer—
past walls,
past memory,
into a place
where trees
still whisper.
And for a moment,
I sense them—
my fur and blood,
the wild hunt.
In the back of my throat
a howl rises.
I wasn’t madefor straight roads.My bones rememberbare earth,the breath beforethe leap. We walk stiff now—feet wrapped in slaughterand stolen skin.Even the groundpulls away. But some nightswhen the house forgetsto hum,I move softer— past walls,past memory,into a placewhere treesstill whisper. And for a moment,I sense them—my fur and blood,the wild hunt.In the back of my throata […]
Walking Bare
Et Francine Hamelin c’est ici je te promets de tenir la nuit en échec loin de son prisme têtu avec ma nudité tendre avec mes mots ténus sur ce vent d’altitude rien ne nous semblera plus facile que de faire notre métier de vivant et si nous redescendons un instant ce sera pour le berceau […]
Portraits de la vie sauvageonne ( XXV ) et ( XXVI ) / Photos de Francine Hamelin & Textes de Barbara Auzou
penwithlit 