A Poem For Today | 11

The universe took its time on you

crafted you precisely

so you could offer the world

something distinct from everyone else

so when you doubt

how you were created

you doubt an energy greater than both of us.

- Rupi Kaur

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A Poem For Today | 10

Above all else,

it is about leaving a

mark that I existed:

I was here.

I was defeated.

I was happy.

I was sad.

I was in love.

I was afraid.

I was hopeful.

I had an idea and

I had good purpose.

And that's why

I made works of art.

- Félix Gonzàlez-Torres

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A Poem For Today | 9

Women of Colour

Our backs

tell stories

no books have 

the spine to

carry.

- Rupi Kaur

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A Poem For Today | 8

In Former Days

In former days we'd both agree

that you were me, and I was you.

What has happened to us two,

that you are you, and I am me?

- Bhartṛhari

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A Poem For Today | 7

I am

a series of

small victories

and large defeats

and I am as

amazed

as any other

that

I have gotten

from there to

here.

- Charles Bukowski

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A Poem For Today | 6

Be sure your pain is yours.

I have the tendency to adopt the hurt of others.

My heart tries to fix.

Sometimes it forgets to function for me.

- Donte Collins

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A Poem For Today | 5

Thirst

Praying

It doesn’t have to be

the blue iris, it could be

weeds in a vacant lot, or a few

small stones; just

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try

to make them elaborate, this isn’t

a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.

- Mary Oliver

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A Poem For Today | 4

Drown

Last time we went swimming

the sea stood up and hugged you,

as though you were responsible

for keeping it blue.

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A Poem For Today | 3

Great Things Have Happened

We were talking about the great things

that have happened in our lifetimes;

and I said, "Oh, I suppose the moon landing

was the greatest thing that has happened

in my time." But, of course, we were all lying.

The truth is the moon landing didn't mean

one-tenth as much to me as one night in 1963

when we lived in a three-room flat in what once had been

the mansion of some Victorian merchant prince

(our kitchen had been a clothes closet, I'm sure),

on a street where by now nobody lived

who could afford to live anywhere else.

That night, the three of us, Claudine, Johnnie and me,

woke up at half-past four in the morning

and ate cinnamon toast together.

"Is that all?" I hear somebody ask.

Oh, but we were silly with sleepiness

and, under our windows, the street-cleaners

were working their machines and conversing in Italian, and

everything was strange without being threatening,

even the tea-kettle whistled differently

than in the daytime: it was like the feeling

you get sometimes in a country you've never visited

before, when the bread doesn't taste quite the same,

the butter is a small adventure, and they put

paprika on the table instead of pepper,

except that there was nobody in this country

except the three of us, half-tipsy with the wonder

of being alive, and wholly enveloped in love.

- Alden Nowlan (1933-1983)

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A Poem For Today | 2

Loss

She had been in my mind that day,

Friendly, open

We knew

How things were

And how she had perceived them

In the past

It seemed so clear

And so complete.

Not until after the telephone call

Did it seem

So terribly complete.

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A Poem For Today | 1

Gallery

Obviously it's winter. You're in a duffel coat,

which hides your shape. I'm lighting your fag.

There's something touching about the way we stand,

our young bodies, you leaning toward me.

We're outside the Angel Café. I'm turned away

from the camera, a back, a raised arm, a hand

holding a lit match: but you can't tell it's me.

Someone says, black and white, you can't beat it.

Look at those paving stones. You can almost feel

that dusk. It's superb. Look at that lettering. I loiter

near 'Angel Lane Couple', hoping to be recognised.

But they're more interested in the dusk. The figures

make it, someone says. And I suppose we did.

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