*

a mile in smog and a mile in fresh air
are not the same mile.
the red tree stretches toward
the river as you reach your arms
over my sleeping body.

i'm dreaming of bears scaling cityscapes
and my old house on fire.

i am wax paper beneath your breath.

the morning foods in
and cuts me in two.

one half goes in your pocket
and the other into the air.

this happens every day and somehow there is
always more of me.

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British poet Simon Armitage reading to a seated audience

"I’ve sought much consolation in poetry recently. It can illuminate where political commentary sometimes falls short. It examines with precision while screaming tabloid headlines cite unnamed sources without question. It aids empathy, and distils emotions in ways that vividly encapsulate a moment in time."

via THE GUARDIAN
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Cover of Brenda Hillman's book, Extra Hidden Life, among the Days
 
“'—kept losing self control,' the first line of [Brenda Hillman's] poem, exposes one danger of being in public, the danger of losing control. But is it in our best interest, or even rational, to demonstrate control over ourselves, our emotions, in the face of fascism or environmental collapse? What is the use of self control, the poem asks, as the speaker’s persona fractures on the page."
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