#Poetry Wed: “Slow Swirl at the Edge of the Sea” by Elizabeth McLagan

“…Here the unbound

fields, white flags of surrender, unanchored blossoms,
apple under a veil of arabesques, the red and white lines

of a blank staff whose notes have flown like great birds
still hovering, a flutter of leaves, still vibrato, still

dervish, sleep sink and float, not yet the doorway, not yet
the pull and drag of the body out of the other-ocean.”

Read the entire poem at Boulevard Magazine.

#Poetry Wed: “You’ve Been Swallowed by a Whale Only You Can Let Go” by Marc McKee

“It’s no surprise that I hate it
when my friend is swallowed by a whale
even if it is only a dream of being swallowed
by a whale, the whale everything ever
all at once and thus a stupefying brick of cloud
borne by Manhattan’s swaying pallbearers

as I think of how to try to bring her out,
and also thus whale after whale full of whales,
all the coffins, the urns, the urns’ ins
and outs, the white whale
of the gone, the swallowed of all the nations, the ones
we feel sawed off from singularly, grief, grief…

…and slip the cinematic tentacles
and slap the needle off the face of the beloved record
and charge into new dreams
like fools that won’t quit singing.
The record spools and loops and pools
and floods into the air, the menacing atmosphere

a whale when a whale moves, an epic wave
taking forever to build
against what tiny forts we’ve made
from pillows and purloined fencing, our cups empty
and refilled a dozen times over, all our sheets in the wind,
our cultivated and distant loves, our locals,

our air…”

Read the entire poem at Copper Nickel.

#Poetry Wed: “Appalachia” by Muriel Miller Dressler

“I am Appalachia. In my veins
Runs fierce mountain pride; the hill-fed streams
Of passion; and, stranger, you don’t know me!

…How can you find rapport with me –
You, who never stood in the bowels of hell,
Never felt a mountain shake and open its jaws
To partake of human sacrifice?…

You, who never stood on a high mountain,
Watching the sun unwind its spiral rays;
Who never searched the glens for wild flowers,
Never picked mayapples or black walnuts; never ran
Wildly through the woods in pure delight,
Nor dangled your feet in a lazy creek?
You, who never danced to wild sweet notes,
Outpouring of nimble-fingered fiddlers…

I am Appalachia; and, stranger,
Though you’ve studied me, you still don’t know.”

Read the entire poem at WV Encyclopedia.

#Poetry Wed: “Leaving Is A Playground Is Not Love” by Emily Koehn

“It is the indecision of a seesaw. The wood chips. You told me never again live in
tender. The wood has grain as if I could engrave. For you a monkey bar. For me
straw and light. For you the scurry of an ant. The sky spreads out like an arm…”

Read the entire poem at Thrush.