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Anushka Shah

After "How Far Away We Are," by Ada Limòn
So we might understand each other better,
I've given up on trying to listen for birds
in the morning. But, I am never without them.
The internet is a pocket forest: a green parrot
named Tico who harmonizes in soaring vibrato
to classic rock songs, woolen baby emperor penguins
with prehistoric feet, potoo birds whose fluty songs
haunt even after their diamond mouths close,
a raven named Fable who inflates her blue-black head
feathers before she declares practiced "Mwahs!"
in the same tone as her keeper, and a cockatiel
who sings an Apple ringtone (you know the one)
when it's upset. How incredible it is that they all
perch together. How to tell you: It's been years since
I've wanted to die, but I still don't understand why
sometimes it feels so difficult to brush my teeth,
start my day, end my day. Why I always miss you,
but sometimes I can't even think of you. Why, when
we are separated, when my mind is difficult,
birds are easy. Today, after watching ten videos
of hummingbirds before noon, I feel light enough to push
off my comforter's irresistible smother and flit around
the house. I want the whir of a sequined green body,
red-adoring eyes, and narrow tongue coiling into skull,
as much as I want the steady sleep-twitch of your
warm body pressed against me. I'm passing this idea
to you: One day, maybe we could plant zinnias
and cardinal flowers in a ruby cluster and wait
for hummingbirds to unfurl and flick their tongues
into an easy sweetness. We could fill two glasses
with cold water and put them on the nightstand.
We could watch together, even on a palm-sized screen—
floating swans, a white, crested pet pigeon waddling
herself to bed, sprinting ostriches, a parakeet father
insistently squawking, "iloveyoubabies gonnafeedthebabies."
from the journal GETTYSBURG REVIEW
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Color mid-shot of Jason Magabo Perez, San Diego Poet Laureate
Jason Magabo Perez on Being San Diego Poet Laureate

"Poetry was, I guess in Marxist terms, it was the cultural work. It was just important to the movement and I come from communities that are both within the Filipino community, but broader, expansive coalitions where we know that art and literature are a significant part of what we do. So, it just happened to be the place where I wanted to spend my energy."

via THE SAN DIEGO UNION-TRIBUNE
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Logo of Milkweed Editions, the publisher of Melissa Kwasny's forthcoming book
What Sparks Poetry:
Melissa Kwasny on "Sleeping with the Cedars"


"Most of us are frightened of the future and grief stricken at what humans have done to the earth. As I see it, one of the unique tasks of poets, especially at this time, is to be in imaginative relation with the Earth. And to use language as a tool toward that effort. To have an imaginative—as opposed to an abstract or intellectual—relationship with the earth is to be in attendance to what Denise Levertov called 'other forms of life that want to live.'"
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This April, to celebrate National Poetry Month, we'll share popular writing prompts from our "What Sparks Poetry" essay series each morning. Write along with us!

Read Martin Carter’s poem, "This is the Dark Time My Love," before you sleep or while you take a rest break (the hour on the clock does not matter), paying special attention to the phrase “my love.” When you wake, or in a later rest break, write (without thinking too much about it) a short response, no longer than Carter’s own poem, as if you were the beloved. Do this as often as you can, during two weeks. Then discard your drafts without reading them over. Write an entirely new poem about a personal or political crisis in your life.
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