Submissions

BLOG

Welcome! Check here for audio and video work submitted by Grinnell artists along with inspiring works from other artists found by the editors.

Entries in poetry (9)

Tuesday
May072013

Strawberries

There were never strawberries
like the ones we had
that sultry afternoon
sitting on the step
of the open french window
facing each other
your knees held in mine
the blue plates in our laps
the strawberries glistening
in the hot sunlight
we dipped them in sugar
looking at each other
not hurrying the feast
for one to come
the empty plates
laid on the stone together
with the two forks crossed
and I bent towards you
sweet in that air
in my arms
abandoned like a child
from your eager mouth
the taste of strawberries
in my memory
lean back again
let me love you

let the sun beat
on our forgetfulness
one hour of all
the heat intense
and summer lightning
on the Kilpatrick hills

let the storm wash the plates

-Edwin Morgan

Thursday
Apr042013

“But first and foremost, I learned from Whitman that the poem is a temple—or a green field—a place to enter, and in which to feel.”

-Mary Oliver

Thursday
Feb282013

Science—

beyond pheromones, hormones, aesthetics of bone,
every time I make love for love’s sake alone,

I betray you.

-Katherine Larson, from “Love at Thirty-Two Degrees

Thursday
Feb212013

Leisure, Hannah, Does Not Agree With You
by Hannah Gamble

After Catullus

My house disgusted me, so I slept in a tent.
My tent disgusted me, so I slept in the grass. The grass disgusted me,
so I slept in my body, which I strung like a hammock from two ropes.
My body disgusted me, so I carved myself out of it.
My use of knives disgusted me because it was an act of violence.
My weakness disgusted me because “Hannah” means “hammer.”
The meaning of my name disgusted me because I’d rather be known
as beautiful. My vanity disgusted me because I am a scholar.
My scholarship disgusted me because knowledge is empty.
My emptiness disgusted me because I wanted to be whole.
My wholeness would have disgusted me because to be whole
is to be smug. Still, I tried to understand wholeness
as the inclusiveness of all activities: I walked out into the yard,
trying to vomit and drink milk simultaneously. I tried to sleep
while smoking a cigar. I have enough regrets to crack all the plumbing.
I’m whole only in that I’ve built my person from every thought I’ve ever loved.

Tuesday
Feb122013

“What woman could turn from me now?
Shining like a butter knife, and the fever burned off,
My whole skin alert as a radar, I can think
Of nothing at all but love and fresh coffee.”

- Fred Chappell, Recovery of Sexual Desire After a Bad Cold