by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Nov 25, 2010 | poetry, the day |
from the archives: november 27, 2008 Jane Hirshfield writes: Having eaten the pears. Having eaten the black figs, the white figs. Eaten the apples. Table be strewn. Table be strewn with stems, table with peelings of grapefruit and pleasure. Table be...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Nov 27, 2008 | poetry |
Jane Hirshfield writes: Having eaten the pears. Having eaten the black figs, the white figs. Eaten the apples. Table be strewn. Table be strewn with stems, table with peelings of grapefruit and pleasure. Table be strewn with pleasure, what was here to be done...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Oct 26, 2008 | journeys, poetry |
Today, Sunday, October 26th, I’m walking. It’s a day in the woods. An autumn ritual (because of spring snakes). A 23-mile hike, which last year took 11 hours. We choose the date by trying to maximize the chance of cool weather with enough daylight...
