What if it is all like that Rilke poem?

Still I write poems about remembering…

Poemgranates Picks: Best of 2020

and the Poemgranate goes to…

Conversations Whilst Getting Poetry Books Billed

and an inevitable close reading of Paul Celan

The Poemgranates Extended Universe

What are Poemgranates and related pedantry…

Poetry As Unrequited Love for Language

…and other theoretical frameworks you can make up with the power of a liberal arts education

ey cee ae bee

[poems and petitions]

Poem Exchanges, Pamphlets and Princess Margaret’s Limericks:

What metre is being generated in this timeless time? Who is writing plague poetry to rival Ring-Around-the-Rosy?

“Deep down I just wanted to be a poem”

I started reading a poem by Jaime Gil de Biedma. It’s called “De Senectute.” “No es el mío, este tiempo,” it begins. It is not mine, this (present) time. I promptly stopped after that first line because that’s how far my deeply-missed, oft-remembered, Duolingo-Owl-abandoned Spanish skills would take me.

Poems for the Amo-calypse

Musings on memory and survival…

Poemgranates Are Where Letter-Writing Comes To Die

Letters, love and lying through your teeth…