Riverkeeper Margaret Gibson Wanting to be that place where inner and outer meet, this morning I’m listening to the river inside— also to the river out the window, river of sun and branch shadow, muskrat and mallard, heron, and the rattled cry of the kingfisher. Out there is a tree whose roots the river has washed so often the tree stretches beyond itself, its spirit like mine, leaning out over the water, held only by the poised astonishment of being here. This morning, listening to the river inside, I’m sinking into a stillness where what can’t be said stirs beneath currents [...]

A Poem for You: The Guitar Federico García Lorca - 1898-1936 The weeping of the guitar begins. The goblets of dawn are smashed. The weeping of the guitar begins. Useless to silence it. Impossible to silence it. It weeps monotonously as water weeps as the wind weeps over snowfields. Impossible to silence it. It weeps for distant things. Hot southern sands yearning for white camellias. Weeps arrow without target evening without morning and the first dead bird on the branch. Oh, guitar! Heart mortally wounded by five swords.

I Sing the Body Electric BY WALT WHITMAN 1 I sing the body electric, The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them, They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them, And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul. Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves? And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead? And if the body does not do fully as much as the soul? And if the body were not the soul, [...]