APAD: Courbet, by Debra Allbery

Saturday afternoon in the two-hearted woods. Clouded brow of the upper midwest, sepia season stalled again at February. Out my window, scrim of hardwoods, a dark choke of pine. I’m in a lamplit corner, reading a book on Courbet. Then a memory like opening to a random page—a café back east, early, a window table. […]

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Read To Me – Day Fifteen

Lock and Key, by Rachel Sherwood I hardly know where to look anymore. Places have a putrid familiarity like the smell of my own sheets or the close air of the kitchen — fishbones on the drain left in the ghastly order of temporal things. I have been sitting in this bar for years now […]

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Read To Me – Day Fourteen

A Lullaby, by Amy Miller Sleep now. The city you were building in your head, its shouting and conveyances, its strikers and unhelpful signs, its cops with their stern citations, rest. Rest the piteous call from your sister and the words you boiled in the pot all day. Somewhere deer fatten in a sudden thaw. […]

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Read To Me – Day Eleven

Tulips, by Sylvia Plath And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets. It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet. The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me. Even through the gift paper I could hear them […]

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Read To Me – Day Ten

  To the Boys Who May One Day Date My Daughter [with Adendum] by, Jesse Parent   In spite of the abuse You Tube has suffered over recent years, I think it’s possibly the greatest invention since the PC, because, You Tube can bring presentations such as this directly into my home! Jesse Parent’s slam […]

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Read To Me — Day Nine

Hamlet’s Soliloquy “To Be Or Not To Be” [excerpt], by William Shakespeare To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; […]

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Read To Me — Day Eight

One Art, by Elizabeth Bishop The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. Then practice […]

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Read To Me — Day Seven

Solitude, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth must borrow it’s mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air. The echoes bound to a joyful sound, But shrink […]

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Read To Me — Day Six

The Moment, by Margaret Atwood The moment when, after many years of hard work and a long voyage you stand in the centre of your room, house, half-acre, square mile, island, country, knowing at last how you got there, and say, I own this, is the same moment when the trees unloose their soft arms […]

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Read To Me — Day Five

Valentine, by Carol Ann Duffy Not a red rose or a satin heart. I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love. Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief. […]

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