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Shakespeare’s sonnet #67 on the Bard’s birthday
Ah, wherefore with infection should he live,And with his presence grace impiety,That sin by him advantage should achieveAnd lace itself with his society?Why should false painting imitate his cheekAnd steal dead seeing of his living hue?Why should poor beauty indirectly seekRoses of shadow, since his rose is true?Why should he live, now Nature bankrout is,Beggared of blood to blush through lively veins,For she hath no exchequer now but his,And, proud of many, lives upon his gains? O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had In days long since, before these last so bad.
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“Hysteria” [by T. S. Eliot, 1885-1965]
As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill. I was drawn…
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He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven [by William Butler Yeats]
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,Enwrought with golden and silver light,The blue and the dim and the dark clothsOf night and light and the half light,I would spread the cloths under your feet:But I,…
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Amy Dougher-Solórzano: Pick of the Week [ed. Terence Winch]
______________________________________________________ Still Life with Taylor Ham Sandwich Anything can be an altar. I skip Easter mass to sit by the window in my old bedroom. (The walls are…
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“April 19” [by David Lehman]
On this day in 1996, I wrote: We have too much exhibitionismand not enough voyeurismin poetry we have plenty of bassand not enough treble, more amberbeer than the frat boys can drink butless…
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“The Overture”: New “Next Line, Please” Prompts [by David Lehman]
On April Fool’s Day, which marks the opening of both “the cruelest month” (T. S. Eliot) and, since 1996, National Poetry Month, I reviewed the previous week’s Next Line, Please entries with some…
