Benjamin Gucciardi

You jumped from the bridge a few blocks from here,
onto the west bank of the Mississippi.

It was a Friday morning in January,
icicles must have jeweled the trusses—
how bright they shine today.

But I'm not writing to describe the city.
I need to ask what it takes to point your toes
and slice through mantle,

to crawl around the groans
of a winter flume.

John, this is not despair, not even boredom—

but the grind of air brakes, Drake crooning
through my neighbor's earbuds, a diesel engine
down Washington Avenue,

they all mask stone's tectonic lust.

Should I confess, I was happy once?

Ten months chasing weasels from olive groves
in Liguria.

Do fields in the afterlife need tending,
too?

I think of you in that sunken garden, shears
in your pocket,

as you pour a shot into your coffee
and watch bees weave

in and out of the buckbrush,
lingering on the broad
whiskey petals of your breath.
from the book WEST PORTAL / University of Utah Press
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Graphic promo for a Poetry Daily and Fall for the Book reading featuring Kaveh Akbar and Ilya Kaminsky
Please join Poetry Daily editorial board members Kaveh Akbar and Ilya Kaminsky  on Tuesday, November 2 at 7:30pm ET for an intimate online reading and conversation about Akbar’s Pilgrim Bell, his highly anticipated follow-up to Calling a Wolf a Wolf.
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Buck Downs giving a poetry reading pre-Covid 19
"Where Am I?" Poems in the Streets

Poet and bookseller Buck Downs is bringing art to the people of Washington DC with thousands of 2" x 2" poetry stickers. "With the stickers, he says, 'an experience of an unusual beauty or of an unusual art pops into their day, and they have a minute with it. And then they get to go on with their day.'"

via THE WASHINGTON POST
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Cover of Li-Young Lee's book, The City in Which I Love You
What Sparks Poetry:
Shara Lessley on Li-Young Lee's "My Father, in Heaven, Is Reading Out Loud"

 
"The more I studied 'My Father, in Heaven...,' the more I appreciated the stanzas’ complexity, pattern-making, and interiority, and how the poem reflected the lyric’s capacity as a communal art. I knew this is what I wanted. Whether I could write anything of dimension was uncertain. But in Lee’s work I discovered textures of energy, music, and intimacy I hoped to emulate—even if I couldn’t predict my effort’s outcome."
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