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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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durchschnitts
durchschnittswhen he’s earned his licentiate degreeif there’s a maiden that’s been movedto inquisitioned antwerpa maiden that he wants to lovehad she been moved to elsinore to lovehe’d travel by merchant timbers and by caravelhe’d find evangelicals christians there gatheredpreach to them what he’s taken to preachteach what he’s taken to teachuntil he’s most rememberedas a… Continue reading
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one like durchschnitts
one like durchschnittswere he from brandenburg he’d returnto berlinwere he of the margraviatehe’d return to be again the youngestbrother to the electorwere he to go preach to ministerto teachbefore he’d be respectedas a pastor or a clergyman he’d be rememberedas the youngest hohenzollernit’d be whisperedthat he’d returned to reclaim his inheritedname his inherited titlea title… Continue reading
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last night
last nighti wanted uncle guido to come againalive dark bearded dark eyedas he must have come to father’s dyingat suppertimeto step into mother’s dining roomskull capped black cassockedwith a crimson sash and scarlet pipingmotheri wanted her again aliveto remain seated at the dinner tableyoung and beautiful widowedshe welcomed her brother like he’d becomethat daily hour… Continue reading
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all those days i’ve forgotten
all those days i’ve forgottenthe first thousand times i was call oraziowhen i first lived in castle rooms idon’t remember looked out over a lake whenmy father lived in my childhoodthose days mother was confinedout of my sight pregnantfirst with paolo then with feliciai wish i could remember the thousand times isuckled at the wet… Continue reading
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in sutri
in sutrithe church of the santassima concezione it’s the door into a monasterywhere black veiled nuns wear brownhabits down to their sandals i didn’t seemamma wander under the latticed choirthrough the door into the enclosure and none of the nuns will saythey watched mami stepbarefoot to step softly and silentlythrough the cloister into the guestroom Continue reading
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their hooves pocked
their hooves pockedthe dirt packedbetween the antiqueroman paving stones broke rocks skidded downhillon the brokenstones up the viacassia into sutri Continue reading
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those pilgrim hordes we met
those pilgrim hordes we meton the via flaminia to trento from every kingdomin the empire where german’s spoken they came from every duchy every countyevery bishopric free city estate some came from speaking bohemiansome from speaking polishsome french flemish dutch some had spoke french in francesome english in englandnorwegian in norway danish in denmark with… Continue reading
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tonight wake
tonight wakewhen late winter returnshome your inmatein your nightgownwith your candle kneelbeside your bed and shiverafter you go to bedafter you go to sleepwhen the horizon’s become a pursethat today’s early summer’sreturned her sun towhen the warm breathof today’s spring’s beenexpelled from your chamber into thelate winter’s dawn at duskthe cold air seeps into your… Continue reading
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from the via
from the viafrancigena out of romethe dust of the roadlayered the sweat in my shirt that driedthirty one days of august deepone of the first days in septemberwith the waist shallowwater of the torrente fersinai scrubbed my face Continue reading
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ask if his mother lives
ask if his mother livesstory is she diedher corpse laid out on a bench carvedinto the rock ofa grave at the foot of the mount of olivesanother story is her body was takenfrom there upreunited with what had fled from dyingin jerusalem the church of the assumptionit’s said to be her tombstone Continue reading
About Me
I have a day.
