Poem of the Day: William Ernest Henley’s “Invictus”
Ghosts The first time I saw him he was standing in front of the Iranian embassy with his mother, or with whom I assumed was his mother. She wore a black bonnet like a black flower. He wore a black frock coat and a beige collar high under his chins. His linen was unimpeachable. His…
Dear English Department community, Welcome back, and a special welcome to newly declared English majors just joining us for the first time! Given how isolated we all have been since covid-19 erupted this past winter, it feels especially good to reconnect this fall, albeit virtually. My work as the chair of the Department…
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say, It’s in the reach of my arms, The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I’m…
( ) death I cause I result in breaking heads along the highway. burial as it fits between transit. buttons make time stop and shirt buttons make time not work for me faulting clothes to shame physics. time as a round thing I fumble to break our paradox meant to save to leave machines. each…
Ashes and Blossoms Today, again, On the string spun from grief and pain, I threaded blossoms; drawn from your memory. And I plucked, From the desert of abandoned love, Buds which bloomed; when were together. Then, I placed on your doorsteps, Offering to the days of your memory. Laid, Side by side, in the vase…
One Art The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing…