White-Eyes, by Mary Oliver (RIP)

In winter
    all the singing is in
         the tops of the trees
             where the wind-bird
with its white eyes
    shoves and pushes
         among the branches.
             Like any of us
he wants to go to sleep,
    but he’s restless—
         he has an idea,
             and slowly it unfolds
from under his beating wings
    as long as he stays awake.
         But his big, round music, after all,
             is too breathy to last.
So, it’s over.
    In the pine-crown
         he makes his nest,
             he’s done all he can.
I don’t know the name of this bird,
    I only imagine his glittering beak
         tucked in a white wing
             while the clouds—
which he has summoned
    from the north—
         which he has taught
             to be mild, and silent—
thicken, and begin to fall
    into the world below
         like stars, or the feathers
               of some unimaginable bird
that loves us,
    that is asleep now, and silent—
         that has turned itself
             into snow.

 

ANNOUNCEMENT : BOOK SELECTION

John D. Robinson – Hang in There

Uncollected Press, the publisher of The Raw Art Review, has selected John D. Robinson’s book Hang in There for the first book publication project in 2019.  UCP is very excited to have the opportunity to present John’s beautiful, powerful, deeply illuminating and often devastating poems in full book form.  Please see RAR’s featured poet page for John (link below) to get a preview of John’s poetry, to see John’s BIO and to find links to buy his previously published books.

FEATURED POET: JOHN D. ROBINSON (click)

Featured Poem: In 2019, by Matt Borczon

In 2019

I am
an old
man yelling
at clouds
a dog
shivering in
a doorway
I am
a crescent
moon and
all the
stars

I am
a promise
broken
a dream
you wake
from crying
I am
everything and
nothing all
at once

I am
on the
head of
a cosmic
pin on
an Ohio
blue tip
match I
am what
50 wolves
howling sounds
like

and I
am still
always
the guy
in the
bar talking
to himself
and talking
to no
one at
all.