Poem Up at Panoply

Lyra and Baraka

My poem Upon discovering that my cat moves through multiple worlds leaving a trail of tumbled objects in significant patterns” is live at Panoply. Of particular note in this issue is an in-titled poem by Stephanie L. Harper (in-titled poems are composed exclusively of the letters appearing in the title) which happens also to be a Petrarchan sonnet. The level of masochism required to produce such a poem is, well, high, to say the least. But then she married me, so… Many thanks to editors Andrea, Clara, and Jeff for taking this poem, and to Sun Hesper Jansen for providing the title during a fundraiser several years ago.

Poem Up at Book of Matches

Throop Painting

My poem Letter to Throop from the Imperfect Stuckist Sky” is live at Book of Matches. Many thanks to editors Nicholas Christian and Kelly Allen for taking this poem, and to artist Ron Throop, whose work inspires and amazes me, and whose friendship and generosity I cherish. This painting hangs on the wall of our dining room, directly across from another Throop original. I only wish we had more walls!

Arbor Day Poem Up at Bulb Culture Collective

This Oak

My poem “This Oak” is live at the Chandelier issue of the Bulb Culture Collective. Thank you to editors L.M. Cole and Jared Povanda for taking this piece. “This Oak” first appeared in Slippery Elm in 2019. Happy Arbor Day, everyone!

Poem Up at Silver Birch Press

My poem “My Mother’s Ghost Sits Next to Me at the Hotel Bar” is live at Silver Birch Press. Many thanks to editor and publisher Melanie Villines for her continuing support. The poem was originally published inThe Lake, and is included in my first full-length book, Our Loveliest Bruises, forthcoming this fall from 3: A Taos Press.

Zoom Saloon Response

Don Perkins responded, but the formatting was off, ruining his superb poem. Here we go again:

Mustanged Ghazal for/from Bob and Anna Marie

It’s sometimes funny, and sometimes it’s not,
the phantoms that swim up from memory’s murk.

A dangerous thing, that dream of power
born from falsehoods escaping memory’s murk.

Drop everything for joy,* a blessing saved
and consumed like breath from memory’s murk.

Return to rituals we were to the night;
Shake loose, dance to tunes from memory’s murk.

Describe yourself in colors named in songs,
And mixed from pigments aswirl in memory’s murk.

Stumble, poefying down the path of life,**,
Bemused by the sun and memory’s murk.

 

Don Perkins 11 Feb 2024

Acknowledgements: Bob Okaji; Anna Marie Sewell; * Shawna Lemay, “Finding Your Joy,” Transactions with Beauty, 3 Feb 2024; 

** Anna Marie Sewell, email 10 Feb 2024.