Poet Jane Hirshfield said "... the feeling I have about poem-writing (is) that it is always an exploration, of discovering something I didn't already know.  Who I am shifts from moment to moment, year to year.  What I can perceive does as well.  A new poem peers into mystery, into whatever lies just beyond the edge of knowable ground."

I bring a different poem to the writing classes each week, not only to inspire but to introduce new poets to the group members.

This Given Day by George Elliott Clarke

Morning yawns, the sun stretches, and the train
Pitches the air with smoke, paws the iron earth,
Tracks its big city game along the coast,
Narrows the span between our birth and death.
From dreams, we, dépaysés, fall to coffee,
Orange Free State oranges, new news, fresher dreams,
Prophesying what tomes we now must read,
What names we will need, what gods we will prize.
    All we can prove is the sun and the bay
And the baying hunter that is the train,
All joined in a beautiful loneliness—
Separated from our pure world of wounds,
Our globe of love (sharp nails hammered through palms),
Happening alone, as if it matters.

~ from Whylah Falls (Polestar Book Publishers, 2000)

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