TO THE PRESENT TENSE

By the time you are
by the time you come to be
by the time you read this
by the time you are written
by the time you forget
by the time you are water through fingers
by the time you are taken for granted
by the time it hurts
by the time it goes on hurting
by the time there are no words for you
by the time you remember
but without the names
by the time you are in the papers
and on the telephone
passing unnoticed there too

who is it
to whom you come
before whose very eyes
you are disappearing
without making yourself known

  — W.S. Merwin (b. 1927), American poet, Pulitzer Prize winner

ADVENTURES IN INK

Fountain pen,
    an adventure in ink.

Words drip from the nib’s caress ———

Strokes flow across the page,
    swooping letters,
        sweeping serifs.

A poet composes,
    filling the page
        with images culled
    from the mind’s
        recess.

Copyright © 2008, Steven L. Sheffield

THE FIRST POEM

of the day will be
calm and gentle,
a stumbling, messy
easing in,
fingers gently on the typer,
becoming familiar with
the shape of the keys,
the sound of the hammer
and the form of the letters,
it will be a chance to breathe,
to gather some momentum,
to look at the blackbird
outside the window
and the sleeping cat
who care less for poetry
than the blackbird,
without fear of screwing up the
best poetry I have written.
the fingers will slowly gather speed
and the words will start to flow,
although they say little,
until the sound is hammer, hammer, hammer
and a dog barks to distract me
and I remember other things to be done
so I leave the first poem as it is
and it will also possibly be the last poem
of the day because life will not
always allow space for poems
and another day will pass without any
immortal remains.

  — Adrian Manning (b. 1967), English poet, currently residing in Spain. From Wretched Songs For Out Of Tune Musicians, copyright ©2003. Published by Bottle of Smoke Press. Reprinted without permission.