#jason shinder

[havingapoemwithyou]

living by Jason Shinder

[typewriter-worries]

It's World Poetry Day, so here's even more of some of my favorite poems.

Good Bones by Maggie Smith | archive.org

Middle Age by Jason Shinder | archive.org

Death Comes to Me Again, a Girl by Dorianne Laux | archive.org

Prints by Joseph Bruchac | archive.org

Molly Brodak by Molly Brodak | archive.org

Connubial by Stephen Dunn | archive.org

What I Didn’t Know Before by Ada Limón | archive.org

Laura, I Want You Pulling Your Hair Back by Natalie Dunn | archive.org

O Small Sad Ecstasy of Love by Anne Carson | archive.org

Small Frogs Killed on the Highway by James Wright | archive.org

Post-Factual Love Poem by Paul Guest | archive.org

Tomorrow is a Place by Sanna Wani | archive.org

Make Out Sonnet by F. Douglas Brown | archive.org

If any of the links you come across are dead, the archive.org link should redirect you to a post that should always be up!

2023 | 2024

[firstfullmoon]

Jason Shinder, from “The Birthday”

[fadedlovemp3]

Birthday Party by Dalton Day / The Party by Jason Shinder / At the Bottom of Everything - Bright Eyes

[litandlifequotes]

There it is—the goddamn orange-going-into-rose descending circle of beauty and time. You have nothing to be sad about.

"At Sunset" by Jason Shinder

[ruknowhere]

Middle Age

Many of my friends are alone

and know too much to be happy

though they still want to dive

to the bottom of the green ocean

and bring back a gold coin

in their hand. A woman I know wakes

in the late evening and talks

to her late husband,

the windows blank photographs.

On the porch, my brother,

hands in pockets,

stares at the flowing stream.

What’s wrong? Nothing.

The cows stand

in their own slow afternoons.

The horses gather

wild rose hips in the sun

the way I longed for someone

long ago. What was it like?

The door opening

and no one on either side.

-JASON SHINDER

[district-realty]

District Realty

Since 1987, the commercial sales team at District Realty’s real estate brokerage, currently led by Jason Shinder and Charles Mirsky, continues to be one of the most successful seller of buildings in the Ottawa area. We’re known for our deep local and industry knowledge, outstanding service and dedication to our clients and tenants. Our passionate commitment to our core values sets us apart from others in our industry. Visit Us: https://www.districtrealty.com/

[dk-thrive]

There is no magic for bringing the past back except to burn down your house and find the music box from the summer so long ago.

Jason Shinder, from “Sweet Desolation,” The American Poetry Review (vol. 37, no. 6, November/December 2008) (via Alive on All Channels)

[poem-today]

A poem by Jason Shinder

Living

Just when it seemed my mother couldn’t bear one more needle, one more insane orange pill, my sister, in silence, stood at the end of the bed and slowly rubbed her feet, which were scratchy with hard, yellow skin, and dirt cramped beneath the broken nails, which changed nothing in time except the way my mother was lost in it for a while as if with a kind of relief that doesn’t relieve. And then, with her eyes closed, my mother said the one or two words the living have for gratefulness, which is a kind of forgetting, with a sense of what it means to be alive long enough to love someone. Thank you, she said. As for me, I didn’t care how her voice suddenly seemed low and kind, or what failures and triumphs of the body and spirit brought her to that point— just that it sounded like hope, stupid hope.

Jason Shinder

(1955-2008)

[havingapoemwithyou]

At sunset by Jason Shinder

[lunchboxpoems]

THE PARTY

And that’s how it is; everyone standing up from the big silence of the table with their glasses of certainty and plates of forgiveness and walking into the purple kitchen; everyone leaning away from the gas stove Marie blows on at the very edge of the breaking blue-orange-lunging- forward flames to warm another pot of coffee, while the dishes pile up in the sink, perfect as a pyramid. Aaah, says Donna, closing her eyes, and leaning on Nick’s shoulders as he drives the soft blade of the knife through the glittering dark of the leftover chocolate birthday cake. That’s it; that’s how it is; everyone standing around as if just out of the pool, drying off, standing around, that’s it, standing, talking, shuffling back and forth on the deck of the present before the boat slowly pulls away into the future. Because it hurts to say goodbye, to pull your body out of the warm water; to step out of the pocket of safety, clinging to what you knew, or what you thought you knew about yourself and others. That’s how it is, that’s it, throwing your jacket over your shoulders like a towel and saying goodbye Victoria goodbye Sophie goodbye Lili goodbye sweetie take care be well hang in there see you soon.

JASON SHINDER

[firstfullmoon]

Jason Shinder, “Living”

[girlwithlandscape]

“The Party” - Jason Shinder

And that’s how it is; everyone standing up from the big silence of the table with their glasses of certainty and plates of forgiveness and walking into the purple kitchen; everyone leaning away from the gas stove Marie blows on at the very edge of the breaking blue-orange-lunging- forward flames to warm another pot of coffee, while the dishes pile up in the sink, perfect as a pyramid. Aaah, says Donna, closing her eyes, and leaning on Nick’s shoulders as he drives the soft blade of the knife through the glittering dark of the leftover chocolate birthday cake. That’s it; that’s how it is; everyone standing around as if just out of the pool, drying off, standing around, that’s it, standing, talking, shuffling back and forth on the deck of the present before the boat slowly pulls away into the future. Because it hurts to say goodbye, to pull your body out of the warm water; to step out of the pocket of safety, clinging to what you knew, or what you thought you knew about yourself and others. That’s how it is, that’s it, throwing your jacket over your shoulders like a towel and saying goodbye Victoria goodbye Sophie goodbye Lili goodbye sweetie take care be well hang in there see you soon.

[kitchen-light]

So many poems obfuscate meaning for so many immensely generous reasons — for pleasure or joy or critique or more. But this poem [Jason Shinder's "At Sunset"] knows exactly what it is trying to say — that you must love your death — and knows, too, that what it is trying to say is immensely hard. Is so hard, in fact, that it proves one purpose of poetry: to act as an offering, to place something upon and within us that is not hard to carry, that maybe makes the act of carrying that so many of us experience in life just a little bit lighter.

Devin Kelly, from “Jason Shinder's "At Sunset" | Thoughts on life, death, and attention.”, published March 6, 2022

[sophi-aubrey]

I walk the coast of my life again.

And still I don’t know where I am.

Or who is beside me.

© Jason Shinder, Finally, It Comes, Laurel Review

Merci @memoryslandscape for this words

[nathalywrivera]

If you love someone, the water moves up from the well.

— Jason Shinder