Tag Archives: Poet of the Month

‘Alpiner’, by Amy Lawless

1 Let me tell you something: climbing a mountain builds character. On top of that, I believe that every young person should climb at least one mountain around puberty. It will teach all sorts of important skills [e.g., to increase spatial awareness, to maneuver tricky physical spaces, to hone a healthy fear of death, to […]

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TIE Poet of the Month: ‘My Therapist’, by Amy Lawless

I told my friend the reason I don’t go to therapy: I would lie to any therapist and adjust my problems according to what I think the therapist would want to hear He said that means I’m crazy and really need to go to therapy I wouldn’t argue with this point I give a name […]

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TIE Poet of the Month: ‘Ars Poetica’, by Amy Lawless

In sixth grade, Mrs. Nerbonne assigned us the poem “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. We had to memorize and recite it aloud both to each other and as a chorus for the principal, a man who wore these Italian suits we’d only seen in movies. I remember standing there in […]

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TIE Poet of the Month: ‘Sculpture, Weed, and Bon Iver’, by Amy Lawless

According to Jezebel.com, Brad Pitt is coping with his breakup with sculpture, weed, and by listening to Bon Iver. This is cliché and almost the perfect prescription. So, a great start. Funny: I think an old photo of Brad Pitt once helped me get over a breakup. Or was it a photo of someone else? […]

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‘Consider The Apple’, by Kate Angus

Consider the Apple And its many names      Akero: pale green strewn with white like light snow dusting leaves. Ambrosia. Annurca: the oldest, depicted in tiled frescoes beneath Herculaneum’s ashes. Arkansas Black hangs as coal in the trees. Ballyfatten, Belle de Boskoop, Bloody Ploughman. Carter’s Blue like the winter sky in cloud-heavy bloom. The […]

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TIE Poet of the Month: ‘Self-Portrait: As Harpy’, by Kate Angus

Bird-bodied, women-headed and so hungry: the food that spills over pendulous breasts, the wine that stains belly-fat, vulva. The crease, the folds, the flesh of it. The red of it too. Who could love you, hideous? Who could desire claws that clutch hair that seeps lank breath rancid And so noisy—always talking shrieking singing if […]

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TIE: Poet of the Month: ‘Never In My Life,’ by Kate Angus

have I eaten so much sugar as in Cuba: profligate blizzard thrown over churros warm from their oil bath, now wrapped safe as babies in brown paper blankets. Glamorous Old Hollywood starlet sparkle of sweet diamonds spackled over the fruit (guava, papaya, words thick on the tongue, as if language were edible). Pulped from the […]

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TIE Poet of the Month: ‘February Is An Early Spring’, by Kate Angus

If I slept like an egg (unbroken), my eyes opening crack the shell. This morning, a cloud formation takes the shape of Great Britain; elsewhere, a garage floods, recedes, and America stains concrete. This is a compulsion called cartocacoethes where one sees maps everywhere. I found the website, and now left-over breakfast toast is Cuba, […]

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Love’s Banquet, by David Lehman

If poetry is love’s banquet, with minstrels reciting tales of cities sacked and sea voyages wrecked while the princely hosts and their guests lift their sacramental chalices and sip the liqueurs of contentment, Play on, not to the sensual ear but to the spirit ditties of no tone. Play on, if music be the food […]

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TIE Poet of the Month: ‘Lune De Miel’, By David Lehman

for Stacey The best thing about Paris is being here with you (a Sauterne with one course, a Cote de Beaune with the next) and the best thing about being here with you is Paris (three letters short of paradise but I wouldn’t have it any other way) on this November day of clean blue […]

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