Kavanagh’s poem looks to Advent for a sort of poetic and spiritual rebirth, a chance to reacquaint ourselves with the “newness that was in every stale thing.”
Poetry
Posted inArts & Culture, Poetry
The Queen’s Musician William Byrd On the Execution of Edmund Campion December 1, 1581
I heard song, whilst he suffered his trials
Posted inArts & Culture, Poetry
Advent Dawns at the Sacred Cafe
he opened up the window for Dec 24 even though it was like Dec 3
Posted inArts & Culture, Poetry
Michelangelo’s Late Drawings
Four scaffolded years risking a fall
like Adam’s
Posted inArts & Culture, Poetry
Meditations on an Apple
Whether you’re pie or cider
some of you will be human
Posted inArts & Culture, Poetry
Under Sail
To hear what sirens was Jesus Christ
nailed to a tree, unable to move?
Posted inArts & Culture, Poetry
Trauma Studies
I can walk the path of his pain all the way back to 1492
Posted inArts & Culture, Poetry
The Year I Was Conspicuous
I learned the weight
of being watched.
I grew tired.