Are You An Echo? The Lost Poetry Of Misuzu Kaneko (AmReading.com)

“The flower shop man dreams of happiness for the flowers he sold.” The poems of Taisho era writer Misuzu Kaneko (née Teru, 1903-1930) have become the subject of a new children’s book. Are You An Echo? is the creation of author David Jacobson, together with co-translators Michiko Tsuboi and Sally Ito. It takes a look…

Tuesday Tunes – Poetry Through Music, #39, 2016

[Inspired by Aurora’s “Runaway”:] Forward now, don’t look back; keep heading to horizon – greener pastures yonder, no darkness… And yet – mind recalls now, tales told by wise old ladies, young savants too, of inescapable shadows of past, of then, being ever reborn to haunt humans, existence; trauma inherited and born afresh.  Again, again to torment……

9 Small Press Poetry Books You Should Read In December (AmReading.com)

For Small Press Distribution (“the nation’s only non-profit distributor”), indie bookstores are a lifeline. One of these in particular, Seattle’s Open Books, has been going for over 20 years, specializing in everything to do with poetry. Recently under new ownership, Open Books (a “500-square-foot shop brimming with more than 10,000 new, used, and out-of-print” books)…

Tuesday Tunes -Poetry Through Music, #38, 2016

[Inspired by Lilium’s “Sleep Inside”:] Mist of sleep first veil to fog cloaking all outside, glass clouded in condensation, breath of sleepers halted in escape. Two worlds collide, frozen. Then a yawn to wake, the pause broken and action returned as the globe spins on. Lives of many dance, unconscious of their syncopated rhythm; a dance…

Tuesday Tunes – Poetry Through Music, #37, 2016

[Inspired by Blueneck’s “Lilitu”:] The bird was dead, she was sure of that, cocks her head to the side (unconscious imitation of the corpse before her, when alive; neck now broken and wings askew). Remorse was not an animal sentiment, she knew, but wonders what had killed the little crow, bloodied its beak, its claw; hungered for…

Tuesday Tunes – Poetry Through Music, #36, 2016

[Inspired by Ólafur Arnalds’ “Fyrsta”:] Fingers like tiny pale branches, outstretched and frozen in place, just so, ever reaching, movement only for a touch – thought she saw a painting once like this, image captured, ever on display in muted colours; memory crystalline on canvas. But what about the frame? Here, golden hair, static with cold…

Tuesday Tunes – Poetry Through Music, #35, 2016

[Inspired by Sóley’s “Blue Leaves”:] Scattered leaves, dead and dying, littered at her feet – numerous as the memories between them. A boot to step, to crunch upon the past: satisfying. Often they’d wandered here, this very path, fingers trailing blossoms, verdant leaves, then plucking berries from the bush (a dangerous task, skin bloodied with juice, with blood from thorns; though he’d suck them…

Sunday Sonnet, #27, 2016

Moonlight shining bright tonight, beacon of silver, cloak of mercury to cover all beneath her massive sphere.  Goddess, her who hangs pendant when darkness awakes, love of the mortals below her alarm (of rare occasion does she observe not, err to a blackness unbecoming).  Never does she mark not the passage of the stars –…

Tuesday Tunes – Poetry Through Music, #34, 2016

[Inspired by AURORA’s “Awakening”:] Feet on city streets, pounding rhythm of souls converging, making for transport, proceeding to work.  Humdrum lives a veil to truth beneath, skin pallid with fatigue, with stress of keeping hidden their hopes and dreams. So grey they seem. Drink the coffee, brew the tea, each day to desk they go, each…

Tuesday Tunes – Poetry Through Music, #33, 2016

[Inspired by Ólafur Arnalds’ “Dalur”, ft. Brasstríó Mosfellsdals:] Force of fingertip a tidal motion, pencil rolling back and forth; chin on table, arm nearby, eyes fixated on lead wave’s rhythm. Minutes tick by, hair falls over skin, over face – a grey veil – but her eyes remain on the pencil: symbol, gift from a child a child…

Tuesday Tunes – Poetry Through Music, #32, 2016

[Inspired by Aesthesys’ “Sailing to Byzantium”:] A gaze, not intent, but vacant, seeing nothing beyond the glass except thoughts inside her head. Not aware, either, of eyes watching her from behind: seen, she is; seen by a stranger too astute, seen through the steam of coffee held in hands stilled when he beheld her, there,…

Tuesday Tunes – Poetry Through Music, #31, 2016

[Inspired by Hungry Ghosts’ “Nothing Has To Happen”:] Liquid caress on pallid skin, chill of mist, breeze-buoyed, surrounding. Embrace to erase all cares of mainstream world; a pause in Nature, inhalation as eradication of thoughts destructive. She walks.  What worth money here?  What cost a breath, product without price this air from trees still standing?…