Category Archives: e.e. cummings

Good Poems collected by Garrison Keillor

What do I miss the most about working in a bookstore?  Besides the fact that I was surrounded by books all day long, I would have to say that I most miss browsing books when business got really, really slow.  I was able to build up quite a wish list while working there — and I fully utilized my employee discount on a weekly basis.

One of the books that I acquired while working at Waldenbooks was Good Poems by Garrison Keillor.  At the time,  I just really wanted to find NEW poets to sink my teeth into.  The title of this book is spot on, as well.  All of the poems (and poets) featured between its covers are exceptional. Each page exposes you to a special piece of art.

I am especially fond of the dedication page – To all the English teachers, especially the great ones.  While I value all of the teachers that taught me over the years (well, okay, MOST of them), all of my English teachers (well, okay, MOST of them) will forever hold a special place in my heart.  When I did bond with a teacher, it was always an English teacher, and I credit them for exposing me to great literature and for always encouraging me in my writing.

So, here are a few good poems, as chosen by Garrison Keillor first and then by me, now…

since feeling is first
e.e. cummings

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don’t cry
– the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids’ flutter which says

we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

where we are
Gerald Locklin

(for edward field)

i envy those
who live in two places:
new york, say, and london;
wales and spain;
l.a. and paris;
hawaii and switzerland.

there is always the anticipation
of the change, the change that what is wrong
is the result of where you are. i have
always loved both the freshness of
arriving and the relief of leaving. with
two homes every move would be a homecoming
i am not even considering the weather, hot
or cold, dry or wet: i am talking about hope.

the last song
Charles Bukowski

driving the freeway while
listening to the Country and Western boys
sing about a broken heart
and the honky-tonk blues,
it seems that things just don’t work
most of the time
and when they do it will be for a
short time
well, that’s not news.
nothing’s news.
it’s the same old thing in
only one thing comes without a
disguise and you only see it
once, or
maybe never.
like getting hit by a freight
makes us realize that all our
moaning about long lost girls
in gingham dresses
is not so important

Buy these good poems (and many more) on Amazon.

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Filed under Charles Bukowski, Collections, e.e. cummings, Gerald Locklin, Poetry