Any Good Poem

"While considering Celan's suicide, I think back to Virginia Woolf drowning herself..."

"So this is Nebraska. A Sunday afternoon; July. Driving along with your hand out squeezing the air, a meadowlark waiting on every post."

"The year I owned a motorcycle and split the air in southern Spain, and could smell the oranges in the orange groves as I passed them outside of Seville, I understood I'd been riding too long in cars..."

"My own dear love, he is all my world,—And I wish I’d never met him."

"I was talking on the phone, walking steadier, noticed the tap, and after, the tap-step, a light knock, a knock like someone’s at the door come to visit..."

"...the beauty still intoxicating, the spirit of the research like a child swimming for the first time in the sea, awed..."

"Remember? Remember wanting to play every minute, as if that was why we were born?"

"How free is our will if our fate is decided by our melanin. What is the meaning of Black lives when so many people don’t think we matter?"

"Of all the questions you might want to ask about angels, the only one you ever hear is how many can dance on the head of a pin..."

"...when skilled hands and callused fingertips pick sweet equations where practice becomes song."

"Touched by the hard times, flowers shed tears. Grieved by separations, birds are startled in their hearts."

"Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes, Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes."

"The night is swallowing Daylight. We sit down to eat."

"The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing, For thy delight each May morning. If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my Love."

“The wind has donned your hair...

“The fundamental act of medical care is assumption of responsibility.”

"Otherwise it's spring, and everything looks frail; the sky is baby blue, and the just-unfurling leaves are full of infant chlorophyll, the very tint of inexperience."

"And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold, And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold."

"I shall forget civilization, I shall forget color, caste, I shall move in a fantastic world of raceless men and women..."

"rescued from the filth of paradise, hosed off, shining, my cracked fingernails caked with dirt."

"The diameter of the bomb was thirty centimeters and the diameter of its effective range about seven meters, with four dead and eleven wounded."

"The buttonholes, the sizing, the facing, the characters. Printed in black on neckband and tail. The shape, the label, the labor, the color, the shade. The shirt."

"It was word and note, The wind the wind had meant to be—A little through the lips and throat. The aim was song—the wind could see."

"But where are the songs of praise for church basements? That lower level, that rock bottom room sunken & reverent with flickering lights..."

"We were three men alone in a ward room built for fifty, dust film on the floor..."

"Soon the train will stop. The border guard will give me back my passport – but I know we’ll be back again soon."

"As we enter the old hilltown graveyard, stone rows rise toward the church like a long flight of stillness..."

"I’m never finished answering to the dead."

"In the corridor, he demands a confession: Who peeled back his bandage? Who let him look?"

"The river is famous to the fish..."