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[open window press]: grace

http://openwindowpress.blogspot.com/2012/02/grace.html

Sunday, February 5, 2012. The trees stand weighted. With prophesies of snow;. A burden received,. They preach, these trees,. In snaps and creaks. And the falling away of their glittering. The morning sun clothes them. In brilliant revelations,. While the sky above dazzles. In a far blue emptiness. On my upturned face,. I wonder if I but stretched. From the highest branches,. Could I send ripples across. But there’s no need. The sky came down as snow. To grace the forest and. The flowers that hide beneath.

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[open window press]: metaphorically speaking

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Tuesday, April 16, 2013. Flying to Phoenix,. I picture myself leaping from this plane. High over the dreaming desert,. Just to find out, once and for all,. But, of course, I don't leap. The pen may be mightier. Than the sword, but, in the end,. I know gravity always wins. Mountains turn to plains,. Fire turns to ash,. As the rising sun. Sets free the night,. The pilot tells us. To prepare for landing. As its wheels come down. I always think of landing. As a kind of birth,. Eulogies would be. Who.

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[open window press]: learning to swim (psalm 139)

http://openwindowpress.blogspot.com/2012/01/learning-to-swim-psalm-139.html

Monday, January 16, 2012. Learning to swim (psalm 139). The first time I went swimming. There was no trick to it. I just floated in that warm place. Of salt and blood,. While God knitted me. The lungs I would later need,. When I finally surfaced. Then there was the baptismal font,. Which involved no swimming at all,. Held by strong arms. And a baptismal dress, I’m sure,. But these are long disappeared. After that there were sinks, bathtubs. And plastic dish basins half full. Gently. I imagine. On the vas...

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[open window press]: broken seashells

http://openwindowpress.blogspot.com/2012/10/broken-seashells.html

Tuesday, October 30, 2012. Her words slid backwards,. Stumbling on a rough patch,. Each syllable a stone. She threw from her mouth. The second drew blood; he sputtered,. Gears grinding across his face. When she spoke again, it was all ozone,. Broken wires and small sparks. His jaw was a slow car crash. 8220;Broken seashells washing over each other,”. He’d thought the first time he heard her on the phone. Now he knocked back a shot of gasoline,. And no one dared strike a match,. Except for her -.

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[open window press]: dervishes

http://openwindowpress.blogspot.com/2015/02/dervishes.html

Wednesday, February 4, 2015. Let us wonder at. All that leads there. Is not true nor. Let us find stones. In the waters of John. And watch the ripples. Let us watch the sun. Rise from its palace. Life bleached from their hearts. That beat so fast when born. Sounding their soft alarm. Whirl their endless stars. Across the moonless sky. Posted by Richard Russeth. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. Poets, Writers and Artists. How A Poem Happens. Travels In The Floating Elvis.

desktopsallye.com

desktopsallye - *start here* blog

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Poetic Adventures in Scotland. The Bees: the book. Bewick, GNR and Burrell. Books: Millennial and Salzburg. Poems all over the place. Bee videos, bee talk. Diehard publishers: new books. 8658; Post history. Bull; November 2013. On the Train Home. Bull; October 2011. Dont read this if you havent read The Curious Inci. Bull; September 2011. End of the Party for another year. Bull; July 2011. Bull; June 2011. Welsummers: a new word in our vocabulary. Bull; December 2010. Bull; September 2010. Bull; July 2010.

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[open window press]: chechnya

http://openwindowpress.blogspot.com/2015/08/chechnya.html

Saturday, August 15, 2015. Saturday morning is lighting. The tips of the evergreens,. The wind comes in gusts through the window -. Tousling my hair as my grandfather did. I’ve just spent an hour reading of war. My coffee has grown cold,. But not so cold as their dead. curled up. In my worn reading chair,. There is still sleep lingering in my bones,. Which is to say life. My cold coffee now bitter - like the character. Counting gunshot wounds instead of cadavers. As if each shot were a separate death,.

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[open window press]: Advent (for nelson mandela)

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Sunday, December 8, 2013. Advent (for nelson mandela). It seems unlikely to me, this season of Advent,. A story of an unwed Mother journeying far,. For reasons unclear, to a filthy manger,. To give birth to the Child - covered in blood -. In a pile of hay. And Joseph, a seemingly mute witness,. Watching the story unfold, sensing. The grief that will one day enfold them. Then there was a Star and three Wise Men. From the East they came,. To the Mother and Child. Kneeling,. In a small cell and alone. Decem...

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Sean O’Brien on Jack Underwood – Happiness – Dave Poems.

https://davepoems.wordpress.com/2015/08/04/sean-obrien-on-jack-underwood-happiness

Archive – 2011-3. Archive – 2014. Archive – 2015. Archive – 2016. Sean O’Brien on Jack Underwood – Happiness. August 4, 2015. I just reviewed Underwood a couple weeks back. O’Brien was my external examiner when I did a creative writing masters in 2008, and he marked me generously. So, Underwood 0 Me 1, basically. So Sean O’Brien reviewed Jack Underwood’s first collection on Saturday in the Guardian. Whose presence is now as ubiquitous as weather, with his. Seeming to promise access to all areas. Which ar...

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Jack Underwood – Happiness – Dave Poems.

https://davepoems.wordpress.com/2015/07/25/jack-underwood-happiness

Archive – 2011-3. Archive – 2014. Archive – 2015. Archive – 2016. Jack Underwood – Happiness. July 25, 2015. None Haven’t met him or seen him read. Is Underwood’s first collection, published a full eight years after he was awarded an Eric Gregory, and has already been compared. To work from other talented poets of a similar poetic generation. There may be some surface justification here: on a first read,. Emotional state of the book’s title. What is the cost of happiness? What does it look like? In Poetr...