Poem of the day

In the great snowfall before the bomb
colored yule tree lights
windows, the only glow for contemplation
along this road

I worked the print shop
right down among em
the folk from whom all poetry flows
and dreadfully much else.

I was Blondie
I carried my bundles of hog feeder price lists
down by Larry the Lug,
I'd never get anywhere
because I'd never had suction,
pull, you know, favor, drag,
well-oiled protection.

I heard their rehashed radio barbs--
more barbarous among hirelings
as higher-ups grow more corrupt.
But what vitality! The women hold jobs--
clean house, cook, raise children, bowl
and go to church.

What would they say if they knew
I sit for two months on six lines
of poetry?

Lorine Niedecker

 

Upcoming events in Penn Book Center's

Random Name Poetry Series 

(Readings are on Saturdays at 2pm)

 

May 5: Lillian Dunn, Alina Pleskova, and Jackee Sadicario

May 31: Emily Abendroth and Stacy Szymaszek

June 28: Amelia Bentley and Ron Silliman

July 19: Dianna Dragonetti and Jacob Russell

August 2: Mark Johnson and Steve McLaughlin

 

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