Drawn by stones, by earth, by things that have been in the fire.
— Marvin Bell, Wednesday: Selected Poems, 1966-1997, (1998)
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favourite november poems
marilyn chin little girl études
muriel rukeyser the speed of darkness: “poem (i lived in the first century of world wars)”
sanna wani lately i am trying
tory dent collected poems: “the moon and the yew tree”
maya mior re: your listing
marvin bell nightworks: poems 1962-2000: “obsessive”
lauren k. alleyene how could i have known i would need to remember your laughter
charles bernstein with strings: “a test of poetry”
carl phillips this far in
laura wetherington (& hannah ensor) feel piece 4
dean young dear friend
robyn schiff a woman of property: “gate”
margaret de laughter a pantoun
rick barot the flea
elsa gidlow oversoul
carl phillips stop shaking
warsan shire the unbearable weight of staying
manuel arturo abreu klangfarbenmelodie
marianne boruch keats is coughing
evan knoll blood makes the blade holy
risk (@mechanicrisk) my son, the two headed calf
francine sterle nude in winter: “self-portrait as an allegory of painting”
luci tapahonso a radiant curve: “elegy for my younger sister”
matthew sweeney alone
david harsent from “a dream book”
sanna wani tomorrow is a place
rachel blau duplessis: from eurydics: snake
hannah brooks-motl family dollar
matthew olzmann letter beginning with two lines from czesław miłosz
janice lobo sapigao silhouette
kofi
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Bagram, Afghanistan, 2002 by Marvin Bell
Marvin Bell, August 1937-December 2020, first Poet Laureate of Iowa
---
The interrogation celebrated spikes and cuffs,
the inky blue that invades a blackened eye,
the eyeball that bulges like a radish,
that incarnadine only blood can create.
They asked the young taxi driver questions
he could not answer, and they beat his legs
until he could no longer kneel on their command.
They chained him by the wrists to the ceiling.
They may have admired the human form then,
stretched out, for the soldiers were also athletes
trained to shout in unison and be buddies.
By the time his legs had stiffened, a blood clot
was already tracing a vein into his heart.
They said he was dead when they cut him down,
but he was dead the day they arrested him.
Are they feeding the prisoners gravel now?
To make them skillful orators as they confess?
Here stands Demosthenes in the military court,
unable to form the words “my country.” What
shall we do, we who are at war but are asked
to pretend we are not? Do we need another
naive apologist to crown us with clichés
that would turn the grass brown above a grave?
They called the carcass Mr. Dilawar. They
believed he was innocent. Their orders were
to step on the necks of the prisoners, to
break their will, to make them say something
in a sleep-deprived delirium of fractures,
rising to the occasion, or, like Mr. Dilawar,
leaving his few possessions and his body.
From Mars Being Red by Marvin Bell. Copyright © 2007 by Marvin Bell. Reprinted by permission of Copper Canyon Press.
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PLEEEASE PLEASE PLEASE ARE THERE ANYONES WHO LOVE PETSCOP AND TALKING ABOUT PETSCOP
im love petscop but have no enough friends who like petscop : (
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To the dead man, a spider's web is also a mask, and he wears it.
— Marvin Bell, Wednesday: Selected Poems, 1966-1997, (1998)
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Being a newsies fan while watching musicals is realising that almost every musical protaganist has their 'Santa Fe'
Legally Blonde - Elle Woods: Warner Huntington III
The Book of Mormon - Kevin Price: Orlando
Falsettos - Marvin: A tight-knit family
The list can continue further, but these were the three that I noticed originally. Also feel free to add onto the list ofc
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