exceptindreams poetry

poetry! this is a curated blog of poetry.

[exceptindreams]

Gravy  | Raymond Carver

“Gravy” Raymond Carver

No other word will do. For that’s what it was. Gravy. Gravy, these past ten years. Alive, sober, working, loving and being loved by a good woman. Eleven years ago he was told he had six months to live at the rate he was going. And he was going nowhere but down. So he changed his ways somehow. He quit drinking! And the rest? After that it was all gravy, every minute of it, up to and including when he was told about, well, some things that were breaking down and building up inside his head. “Don’t weep for me,” he said to his friends. “I’m a lucky man. I’ve had ten years longer than I or anyone expected. Pure gravy. And don’t forget it.”

[exceptindreams]

We Lived Happily During the War | Ilya Kaminsky

“We Lived Happily During the War” Ilya Kaminsky

And when they bombed other people’s houses, we protested but not enough, we opposed them but not enough. I was in my bed, around my bed America was falling: invisible house by invisible house by invisible house. I took a chair outside and watched the sun. In the sixth month of a disastrous reign in the house of money in the street of money in the city of money in the country of money, our great country of money, we (forgive us) lived happily during the war.

[exceptindreams]

Poem (I lived in the first century of world wars) | Muriel Rukeyser

“Poem (I lived in the first century of world wars)” Muriel Rukeyser

I lived in the first century of world wars. Most mornings I would be more or less insane, The newspapers would arrive with their careless stories, The news would pour out of various devices Interrupted by attempts to sell products to the unseen. I would call my friends on other devices; They would be more or less mad for similar reasons. Slowly I would get to pen and paper, Make my poems for others unseen and unborn. In the day I would be reminded of those men and women, Brave, setting up signals across vast distances, Considering a nameless way of living, of almost unimagined values. As the lights darkened, as the lights of night brightened, We would try to imagine them, try to find each other, To construct peace, to make love, to reconcile Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other, Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves, To let go the means, to wake. I lived in the first century of these wars.

[exceptindreams]

I look at the world | Langston Hughes

“I look at the world” Langston Hughes

I look at the world From awakening eyes in a black face— And this is what I see: This fenced-off narrow space   Assigned to me. I look then at the silly walls Through dark eyes in a dark face— And this is what I know: That all these walls oppression builds Will have to go! I look at my own body   With eyes no longer blind— And I see that my own hands can make The world that's in my mind. Then let us hurry, comrades, The road to find.

[exceptindreams]

The Failure of Navigation in the Valley | Kazim Ali

“The Failure of Navigation in the Valley" Kazim Ali

To CD Wright

No body is fixed in position no one can be known

Still I am read by satellites my tendency extrapolated

In the mountains I have no GPS I don’t know where to go

There are those trees their leaves flicker like little jewels a whole bucketful

Darkness stares back are you even human anymore

I close the curtains at night not because I think others will see in

Turn left there but so I do not see the reflection that is pure dark

I am not afraid of anything oh is that so

Citizen bear do this place not belong to you

Unseen I wander through the thorny place of what I no that ain’t it

No fear can be knew can be none fuck how do you spell it

I held a heavy jade pendant in my hand once not in this valley in another

In the range of  limited human experience how many places are there really

I don’t even have to look at the earth anymore I just have to listen

Now that hillbilly whisper guides me which way to turn how far up the turn is

Drawling like moonshine we’re really off the grid now

Making wild prayers to the green dark which kind do you mean

Thank god we thought of  her recording this voice both kinds

[exceptindreams]

Twenty-One Love Poems [Poem II] | Adrienne Rich

“Twenty-One Love Poems [Poem II]” Adrienne Rich

I wake up in your bed. I know I have been dreaming. Much earlier, the alarm broke us from each other, you’ve been at your desk for hours. I know what I dreamed: our friend the poet comes into my room where I’ve been writing for days, drafts, carbons, poems are scattered everywhere, and I want to show her one poem which is the poem of my life. But I hesitate, and wake. You’ve kissed my hair to wake me. I dreamed you were a poem, I say, a poem I wanted to show someone . . . and I laugh and fall dreaming again of the desire to show you to everyone I love, to move openly together in the pull of gravity, which is not simple, which carries the feathered grass a long way down the upbreathing air.

[exceptindreams]

Senior Discount | Ali Liebegott

“Senior Discount” Ali Liebegott

I want to grow old with you. Old, old.

So old we pad through the supermarket using the shopping cart as a cane that steadies us.

I’ll wait at register two in my green sweater with threadbare elbows, smiling because you’ve forgotten the bag of day-old pastries.

The cashier will tell me a joke about barbers as I wait. He repeats the first line three times but the only word I understand is barber.

Over the years we’ve caught inklings of our shrinking frames and hunched spines.

You’re a little confused looking for me at the wrong register with a bag of almost-stale croissants clenched in your hand.

The first time I held your hand it felt enormous in my own. Sasquatch, I teased you, a million years ago.

Over here, I yell, but not in a mad way.

We’re laughing. You have a bright yellow pin on your coat that says, Shalom!

Senior Discount, you say. But the cashier already knows us. We’re everyone’s favorite customers.

[exceptindreams]

The Way One Animal Trusts Another | Carl Phillips

“The Way One Animal Trusts Another” Carl Phillips

             Somewhere between what it feels like, to be at one with the sea, and to understand the sea as mere context for the boat whose engine refuses finally to turn over: yeah, I know the place— stumbled into it myself, once; twice, almost.  All around and in between the two trees that grow there, tree of compassion and—much taller— tree of pity, its bark more bronze, the snow              settled as if an openness of any kind meant, as well, a woundedness that, by filling it, the snow might heal…You know what I think? I think if we’re lost, you should know exactly where, by now; I’ve watched you stare long and hard enough at the map already…I’m beginning to think I may never not be undecided, about all sorts of things: whether snow really does resemble the broken laughter              of the long-abandoned when what left comes back big-time; whether gratitude’s just a haunted space like any other.  This place sounds daily more like a theater of war, each time I listen to it— loss, surprise, victory, being only three of the countless fates, if you want to call them that, that we don’t so much live with, it seems, as live for now among.  If as close as we’re ever likely to get, you and I, is this—this close—

[exceptindreams]

Book of Statues | Richie Hofmann

“Book of Statues” Richie Hofmann

Because I am a boy, the untouchability of beauty is my subject already, the book of statues open in my lap, the middle of October, leaves foiling the wet ground in soft copper. “A statue must be beautiful from all sides,” Cellini wrote in 1558. When I close the book, the bodies touch. In the west, they are tying a boy to a fence and leaving him to die, his face unrecognizable behind a mask of blood. His body, icon of loss, growing meaningful against his will.

[exceptindreams]

Wedding | Ari Banias

“Wedding” Ari Banias

People, far too many people here— drinking, leaning on the furniture, congratulating my father on his new life. Here’s his young wife, young enough to be my older sister. She—if you can’t tell the whole truth—is nice. But he slams his glass onto the table, yells more now than ever. Unless I remember wrong. I know I was afraid. Of him. And so. I know I played alone with dolls and that we roughhoused, hard, like brothers. What is a father is a question like what is home, or love. In the middle of the room guests on the arms of the awful floral sofa Mom wouldn’t get up from when she heard. In the grey bathrobe for a week, horrid splotches of pink and purple flowers with green for stems. Or leaves. I can’t look at it. There’s something hot behind my eyes another glass of wine should take care of. There are people I should say hello to.

[exceptindreams]

When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities | Chen Chen

“When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities” Chen Chen

To be a good ex/current friend for R. To be one last

inspired way to get back at R. To be relationship advice for L. To be advice

for my mother. To be a more comfortable hospital bed for my mother. To be

no more hospital beds. To be, in my spare time, America for my uncle, who wants to be China

for me. To be a country of trafficless roads & a sports car for my aunt, who likes to go

fast. To be a cyclone of laughter when my parents say

their new coworker is like that, they can tell because he wears pink socks, see, you don’t, so you can’t,

can’t be one of them. To be the one my parents raised me to be—

a season from the planet of planet-sized storms.

To be a backpack of PB&J & every thing I know, for my brothers, who are becoming

their own storms. To be, for me, nobody, homebody, body in bed watching TV. To go 2D

& be a painting, an amateur’s hilltop & stars, simple decoration for the new apartment

with you. To be close, J., to everything that is close to you—

blue blanket, red cup, green shoes with pink laces.

To be the blue & the red. The green, the hot pink.

[exceptindreams]

Prayer for Our Daughters | Mark Jarman

“Prayer for Our Daughters” Mark Jarman

May they never be lonely at parties Or wait for mail from people they haven't written Or still in middle age ask God for favors Or forbid their children things they were never forbidden. May hatred be like a habit they never developed And can't see the point of, like gambling or heavy drinking. If they forget themselves, may it be in music Or the kind of prayer that makes a garden of thinking. May they enter the coming century Like swans under a bridge into enchantment And take with them enough of this century To assure their grandchildren it really happened. May they find a place to love, without nostalgia For some place else that they can never go back to. And may they find themselves, as we have found them, Complete at each stage of their lives, each part they add to. May they be themselves, long after we've stopped watching. May they return from every kind of suffering (Except the last, which doesn't bear repeating) And be themselves again, both blessed and blessing.

[exceptindreams]

What Have I Got to Complain About | David Budbill

“What Have I Got to Complain About” David Budbill

We've got enough money now not to worry every minute about where the next dollar is coming from. We even go to the movies once in a while. We've got a nice collection of friends. Our house is sturdy and well built. It keeps us warm and stands well against the storms. The larder is full of rice. There are plenty of potatoes down cellar. The freezer is full of vegetables I grew myself. In the face of all that, slights to my vanity seem frivolous and nonsensical. What have I got to complain about?

[exceptindreams]

76 | Philip Schultz

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“76”

Philip Schultz

My bones aren't what they used to be; my eyes ache,

as if I've been reading an ancient text by candlelight.

My back and knees creak. I'm happy if the car starts

and I can walk the dogs along the ocean which looks

a little less robust. It replenishes itself with stretching

and long cleansing breaths. The sun is another story.

It's beginning to show its age. Perhaps we've enjoyed 

enough springs and everything is getting a little redundant.

[exceptindreams]

our happiness | Eileen Myles

“our happiness” Eileen Myles

was when the lights were out

the whole city in darkness

& we drove north to our friend’s yellow apt. where she had power & we could work

later we stayed in the darkened apt. you sick in bed & me writing ambitiously by candle light in thin blue books

your neighbor had a generator & after a while we had a little bit of light

I walked the dog & you were still a little bit sick

we sat on a stoop one day in the late afternoon we had very little money. enough for a strong cappuccino which we shared sitting there & suddenly the city was lit.

[exceptindreams]

I Was Minor | Olena Kalytiak Davis

“I Was Minor” Olena Kalytiak Davis

In this life, I was very minor.

I was a minor lover. There was maybe a day, a night or two, when I was on.

I was, would have been, a minor daughter, had my parents lived.

I was a minor runner. I was a minor thinker. In the middle distance, not too fast.

I was a minor mother: only two, and sometimes, I was mean to them.

I was a minor beauty. I was a minor Buddhist. There was a certain symmetry, but it, too, was minor.

My poems were not major enough to even make me a “minor poet,”

but I did sit here instead of getting up, getting the gun, loading it.

Counting, killing myself.

[exceptindreams]

A Snap Quiz in Body Language | David Wagoner

“A Snap Quiz in Body Language” David Wagoner

We can’t hear what they’re saying, but that man is holding that woman in his arms. Your assignment is to deduce their thoughts from what they do. They’ve left no apparent space between their bodies. It could be called a close embrace, but notice her arms are at her sides, her hands relaxed, her face impassive, while he’s whispering something in her ear. His upper torso is tilted slightly forward. Hers is yielding but not in a way suggesting sweet surrender. Is this a seduction scene? Is she being held for questioning? Should she call a lawyer? He’s looking into her eyes now. How wide open would you say they are? What does he see in them? If he were to let her go, class, what would she do?