but rest And patiently learn to receive the self You have forsaken in the race of days. ​ To all the small miracles you rushed through. ​ Learn to linger around someone of ease

“I have hung prints of this poem by @officialdonika in our bedroom AND office, in case you were wondering about what I’m like”

—with that eager, amateur’s love. Sometimes the ideas that mean the most to you will feel true long before you can quite formulate them or justify them. Or it might even be in actual school. In my classes, I ask the students to find a poem they like and to get it by heart. To see someone in their late teens or early twenties, often by gender or ethnicity different from the author, shaping his or her mouth around those sounds created by somebody who is perhaps long dead, or perhaps thousands of miles away, and the students bringing their own experience to it, changing it with their own sensibility, so that they’re both possessed and possessing—those moments have been very moving to me.

But of course, the magic of the poem, and that of many of Oliver’s poems in particular, is how it creates this sense of being implausibly singled out and told what you were waiting to hear.

"Friends, it's time for me to recharge the batteries and take a Pome hiatus. This third run has indeed been a charm; thank you so much for reading! Stay well, support your local poet, and see you somewhere down the road. -M x" "the song was in fact the joyous concordance of a moment that would not come again"

Great usage of line breaks on the “narrow passes” line.

“in underground sunlight”

this morningshaking off the rainof early winter— poem.exe (@poem_exe) December 20, 2018

“...and behind them nothing.”