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About Lucie Brock- Broida’s “Real Life”
About Lucie Brock- Broida’s “Real Life” As I was scrolling through my Facebook feed on Monday, after having posted the previous blog earlier in the day, I discovered Lucie Brock- Broida’s (1956- 2018) poem, “Real Life” (poets.org>poem>real-life). I say discovered because I’d never encountered the poem before. “Real Life” was published in Brock- Broida’s first… Continue reading
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spring was arranged on a handcart
spring was arranged on a handcartover a road ruttedby plough wheels rolledout of one of schonburg’svillages that are near neighbors to the towna young peasant’s wifepulled her cart out of winterflax spun into thread and wound around spindles and flax woven into shirts into wimples and bonnetswool woven into doublets and tunicsthe itch woven into… Continue reading
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the crown of elsinore is a wooden floor
the crown of elsinore is a wooden flooras fortinbras still wearselsinore like he wears the diademof denmark on his headand on his finger the gold bandthat weds him to the queen of norwayas he wears what he wearsto appear kingit’s those planks over which i once walkedon which for two nights i stoodwith the guardsmen… Continue reading
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once upon a dawn i wandered out of wittenberg
once upon a dawn i wandered out of wittenbergit was windless the early autumn morningnothing blew and nothing was blownthe sun still silvered the night’s dew on the sodi waited for the watchman to swing open the gatethe road there is narrow as a cartthe road that ends at schonburg’s manorhouseit passes through a peasant… Continue reading
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when last i sent you
when last i sent you to the square to purchasepaper and inkthe coins i gave you tarnishedin your pouch during the time you stopped to watch and i waited for the widow girl to dance a bavarianhand clap and knee slap and heel tapthen i waited for her to see youthen waited for her to… Continue reading
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when his hands carry
when his hands carrythe mouth of the flute away from his mouththe lip of the flute away from his lipheaven carries the cloud away from wittenbergand the rains that all day’ve divedinto the puddle stopand the puddle that all day’s overflowed into trickles away from itselfceases to floodand the tricklebeds carved into the mudby the… Continue reading
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the cloak in which i’d wrapped myself
the cloak in which i’d wrapped myself to warm the irmine lining with my cold i wore to answerhamlet’s knock at the door or claudius’ or gertrude’si answered marcellus’ Continue reading
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the boy who plays the flute
the boy who plays the flutebreathes gentle breath over the lip brimand across the open mouth of oh a sticka dead stickthat lays across his youthful handsa stick straight as rigor mortishis eyes whirl to their cornersacross the square comes the constablecomes to send him home himand the boy who strums the luteand the boy… Continue reading
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if this german field were in denmark
if this german field were in denmarkif marcellus livedthat faraway father leaned on a scytheat a distance where i can’t see that he has eyesor teeth that keep his face from collapse or if he’s aged down to three teeth or two or one or toothless his face collapsedthat distant face is a patch of… Continue reading
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on the corner in market square
on the corner in market squarewhere the door opens into the black eaglethe weaver’s son become the printer’s devil regard how the inks on his four fingers and on his thumb dance on the lute strings pluckedby the inks on his other hand’s greeter and thumb regard but regard too much you’ll miss how his… Continue reading
About Me
I have a day.
Jake's Flea Market 