phillip crymble

Ha! Still a Pearl Jam recording, tho.

YouTube video by Pearl Jam - Topic The Long Road

Long Road with Neil Young on pump organ is undefeated.

Couture If by mink coat you mean a soft, warm garment made from the lives of many other creatures, then, yeah, sure, I guess you could say I'm wearing a mink coat.

Tony Hoagland

Passion and Form Ah, they have kissed! The rhyme Comes in unnoticed.

A Louise Glück miniature that appeared in The Threepenny Review in 2023. To my knowledge, it remains uncollected.

A Contract Their love ran out in March; their lease, in June. He moved where cash allowed, took the room strewn with near-junk unseen since their wedding day. Home, then, was like a drawer where one might lock loose pieces of a fallen antique clock. She lived in bed, ate oatmeal from a tray, read comics like a child bored with a cold. He searched the bars for something nice to hold. Then, drunk, he'd close his eyes and trace the day, the day's soft flicker, down to a shrinking dot, as though a ship were burning, far away. She saw his razor on the sink, the cot folded, the room he slept in not at all, where once she'd wrapped him, waiting, in a shawl and, warmed at last, he could pretend to wake. He waited now, unseen, for no one's sake.

So much going on in this remarkable poem by Joshua Mehigan.

War on the Past Love is just a clue. If we win the world can come back to the world, speechless aligned, cell within cell You must put the objects down on the table and walk casually from the room you cannot re-enter until we get it right.

Another early poem by Cole Swensen. Can't get this one out of my head.

War on the Past Love is just a clue. If we win the world can come back to the world, speechless aligned, cell within cell You must put the objects down on the table and walk casually from the room you cannot re-enter until we get it right.

Another early poem by Cole Swensen. Can't get this one out of my head.

Ten Years in the Making. Poetry. Well-served. #KFB10

knifeforkbook.com

Mine was a Player's Navy Cut in a culvert by the A&P.

I remember my first cigarette. It was a Kent. Up on a hill. In Tulsa, Oklahoma. With Ron Padgett.

- Joe Brainard

WALLACE STEVENS In Memoriam, 1879-1979 On an Ordinary Evening by David Ignatow I am back to walking alone through silent streets lit by colorful windows of the homes of responsible men and women, and I refuse responsibility. I am weeping without tears, with hands jammed into pockets under trees smelling of leaves and grass of the gardens -- smelling the silence of stolidity and peace and wanting no peace until it is written in my poems.

Wallace Stevens was born on this day in 1879. This uncollected poem by David Ignatow was written to commemorate his centenary.

this is good

It is October, so here is my poem, "October," published in Swamp Pink this month. Thank you to the editors, and thank you for reading. 🍁🍂 swamp-pink.charleston.edu/featured/oct...

Invocation The day hanging by its feet with a hole In its voice And the light running into the sand Here I am once again with my dry mouth At the fountain of thistles Preparing to sing.

W. S. Merwin

Thought Cleveland was going to tie it for sure after that error in the 9th. If they had any chance of winning the series they needed that first game and they got it. Hell of a pitching performance.

nice

[Image description: White text against a purple background: The Fiddlehead, Atlantic Canada's Literary Journal. Disability: The Revolution. The Fiddlehead's Summer 2026 Special Issue. Call for Submissions from Disabled Writers: Deadline November 30, 2025.]

Disabled friends! I am thrilled to be overseeing @fiddlehd.bsky.social's Summer 2026 issue--DISABILITY: THE REVOLUTION.

Our theme is REVOLUTION and you can interpret that as widely as you like. If you identify as disabled and want to answer this call, please submit!

thefiddlehead.ca/revolution

ha!

the other one

4/ Buson, dying. "Even being sick like this, I feel an inordinate fondness for the way and I try to make haiku.”

Robert Hass, from "Images"

Jays win American League East!

Grand Slam! 5-1 Blue Jays!

A Dusk How slowly the mountain takes it in, like a diagnosis of darkness. The consolation of a continuation that has nothing to do with you.

Christian Wiman

Pop. 1280 is also excellent. So's Savage Night.

Oh yes.

The Terror and the Pity as in: cold pain, shitty pain, a shock, a shirring, a ripple. sharp, of course. more variously: crisp or piercing, clean or fuzzy. a whisper. a tickle cresting, then settling down. (good.) the reliable dull roar. sheered through. a cold punch followed by radiating calm . . . can it be sour? yes. salty? perhaps; bitter, definitely; and sweet, sweet is the worst, a deep pure blue of an ache, a throb caught in its own throat trying to explain— as in: numbing, searing, penetrating, sudden. as in blotto. lord-have-mercy. why. please.

Rita Dove

achievement unlocked

So weird. It's a book I used to teach. A veritable masterclass in unreliable first-person narration.

Before that I'd seen everything in black and white, good and bad. But after I was set straight I saw that the name you put to a thing depended on where you stood and where it stood. And . . . and here's the definition, right out of the agronomy books: 'A weed is a plant out of place.' Let me repeat that. 'A weed is a plant out of place.' I find a hollyhock in my cornfield, and it's a weed. I find it in my yard, and it's a flower.

Jim Thompson, who was born on this day in 1906
⸻ from The Killer Inside Me (1952)

Thanks Gerry!