John Koethe
Whatever happened to joke shops? I remember two of them
In downtown San Diego, one on a corner on Broadway
Not far from the library, that specialized in off-color signs,
Like a guy sheepishly imploring “We don’t swim in your toilet,
Please don’t pee in our pool,” or a tall Texan proclaiming
“The high balls are on me.” The other was on F Street,
Next door to the Hollywood Burlesque’s marquee celebrating
Tempest Storm, with a sign in its window offering fifteen dollars
For 1945 pennies, which I started looking for until it hit me
1945 meant 1,945. Anyway, they’re both gone now,

While here I am, inhabiting a moment that supposedly was buried
In those moments I spent looking through their windows sixty years ago,
Although I don’t believe it. I’m supposed to be a part of nature too,
As subject to its principles as particles and stars. I know time isn’t real
And everything that happens happened thirteen billion years ago,
When all of this somehow “occurred.” I realize these things,
And yet deep down I think they can’t be true: I wasn’t even real then
And in a while I won’t be real anymore, like the joke shops and Tempest Storm
As things turn into time and disappear (though she’s still here). And while
That might be just the way things seem, it’s the way they seem to me.

“It feels like such a miracle, this life”—I wrote that in a poem
Six years ago and I repeat it now. I’ve no idea what other people feel
As they get old, but I feel nothing but amazement, not at what I am,
Which is commonplace and ordinary, but that I am and have a life at all,
The private one of these appearances beyond the reach of physics.
Though they take the form of time, they’re really nothing but myself,
The pages of a narrative that led the way from childhood to here
That no one gets to read unless they want to, pausing to look in the window
Of the joke shop on Broadway on the way to the library, or the one on F Street
Next door to the Hollywood Burlesque. Not to mention Tempest Storm.
from the book BEYOND BELIEF / FarrarStraus and Giroux 
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Ada Limón: "Poet Laureate for the 21st Century"

“And so being able to post something on Facebook, on Instagram, on Twitter or any other social media platform, there is this amazing encounter that you can have where you’re flipping through, and it’s like—someone’s child, this lovely flower, there’s a shoe ad—and then you come to this poem and you’re suddenly bowled over by an Audre Lorde poem from 1978.”

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What Sparks Poetry: Joshua Edwards on Gérard de Nerval's "Waking Up in a Stagecoach"

"I began with the title: “Le Réveil en voiture.” It seemed so simple. “Réveil” is “awaken” and “voiture” is something that carries someone, a vehicle. But which vehicle to put the reader in? What should carry them through the landscape of the poem? The obvious choices at first were “carriage” and “coach,” but those seemed too distant, too private, too monochrome. “Stagecoach” felt better! It was technicolor."
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