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Poland

Dead Poets Live

Rilke, Whitman, Angelou, Clifton — inspiration and prompts

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Pink skies. A touch of fuchsia.
Shouldn’t all horizons
be stacked this way?
Shall I chase Heaney through…

See the dumb tree stare across the horizon
& look across a killer highway to where sand
goes on for miles.

We are adrift from each other
by two worlds — both a language —
though connected by
a wide grid funnelling…

What has no shadow has
no strength to live, wrote Milosz
who knew the Warsaw ghettos
all the barbarity of Europe

I sit in my window like a widow
behind net curtains
notice the world is slower indoors
where the computer whirrs
amid a sea of…

We thought of the river and decided
to visit —
the lone guitarist pumping out
Bach, the dogs sitting patiently as…