How Talk to the Rain

A Poem by Joanna M. Weston

do I rant of goldenrod and roses
broken by thunderous clouds?
and will rain answer with whispers
dripped from bare twigs?

rather I bend into a shout of wind
catch the sting of words on my skin
run for the shelter of a wall

where I murmur to a coming shower
of green and rising flowers
that know the urgency of April
and the weep of winter’s end.

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Dream Song 326

A Poem by Anon ymous

Still life hangs in the hallway: ashtray, chair, table, empty
bowl [in the name of the father and the son and the holy
ghost]. My un-opened letters bound by string, in a basket;

I remember her favorite dress; pale blue, [I used to hold
her hand] one button gone. I miss the smell of coffee,
the jangle of car keys, the quiet way her voice tightened

when she was nervous; [in the city we die fast, out here
it’s so slow]. My fitted shirt is wrinkled, we need rain;
first time in years the river has crested but not flooded.

Highland Park Poetry-The Exquisite Corpse 2012

A Video of Poetry by Pamela Larson

What is The Exquisite Corpse? A surrealist game played this time via email. One line was emailed to the poet. The poet came up with 4 new lines based on that one line and returned to a central email. The last line of that poet’s 4 lines was emailed to the next poet creating a secret chain of lines. 32 poets participated and no one knew the collaborative poem until this performance. The very last line submitted was used as the title. Thank you to all that participated and to the Highland Park Library for hosting the reading. Special thanks to Jennifer Dotson for all you do for poets and poetry.

Highland Park Poetry-The Exquisite Corpse 2012

The Stone Church

A Poem by Joanna M. Weston

stands on a misted hill
under lowering clouds upheld
by evergreens

an elderly priest built it
by selling butter from his own cow

now the church faces a metallic bay
and frowns behind a poster
for the local craft fair

rain darkens the parking lot