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"The Children," by Donald Revell The Children In three directions are two storms. I instruct the edges of my hands to become irises, to shatter in that way, in three directions. There's nothing behind me. Viols claw beneath our fences at the elevation of sound to pure unsanctity, the moment of simultaneity: airplanes seeming to collide and not colliding, the crow alighting in the manner of a seabird, the carbomb a more than momentary poppy. The bad total of death points one direction. It moves at the edge of my hand at the memorial service, viols useless now laid acr...

"Water Music," by Robert Creeley Water Music The words are a beautiful music. The words bounce like in water. Water music, loud in the clearing off the boats, birds, leaves. They look for a place to sit and eat— no meaning, no point. Poet: Robert Creeley Source: @Poets.Org Books: @Abebooks Water music, loud in the clearing. ...