Ed Rinaldi is back talking about the power of poetry and the words written on the page with his newest poem “spoken words”. If you are keeping track at home, this is Ed’s 140th poem of the year so far.
Are you writing a poem everyday for National Poetry Month? Want to post those poems on the Albany Poets website? Send them to [email protected] and they will be available for the world to read.
It’s National Poetry Writing Month! A poem a day, each day in April. This poem was made using one of Charles Bernstein’s experiments: Acrostic chance: Pick a book at random and use title as acrostic key phrase.
We are back after an incredible 2012 Albany Word Fest with Ed Rinaldi’s Poem A Day, “showeringherself”
Ed Rinaldi is back with his continuing effort to write not just a poem a day for National Poetry Month, but for the entire year. This is poem 134, so it looks like he is ahead of schedule a bit.
the ripple boundaryinsects will figure out the hive triggersthat feed on our imbalancesand this will give thema quantum computationalpower of survival amidstthe strewn litter of our disregard for being part of something larger than ourselves we might b…
warm crescent roll,eager tongue kind of day in America a surreal arousal waitsjust outside the glass on the streets lined with the algebras of the individualwords follow the lead straw and mud brigadesmarch tide oceans finger rivers brick buildings her…
view finding a postcard crumbled kingdom in the Suncollar tag jangling in the racing afternoon my dog says breathe with a smile if you canI build a small fire in the pit at the end of the yardroast peeps with my daughter as if those little sugar chicki…
the crumble wall of my Jerichoclear sky wideApril swing genitalslong armed treesbleed distilled frenzy in cyclical symphoniesthis is Spring from the bird trills to the flower trumpets that herald Persephone’s return to Demeterchildren garden inten…
mother bird told me to go I was kicked out of my house when I was 14truth is I waskicked out of her heart long before that she wouldn’t answer any questionsor let me leave without conditionsthat made renditional recall a somethingwithout believi…
this is what the words are wings just waiting for me outside the glass knives to petal garland past where butterflies and beaks clutch pearls and lace the wind stipple slow downs begin enough to rest and turn the e…
the ghost of a rosein the neighborhoodof treesspread dreamt full fingeredI outstretch fora blind morelike a loose garmentslung or hungto whatever corner of skin and boneI canquietlyquite quicklystick tosilencehand-waitsfor every clasp-returnof a l…
