The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
The Props assist the House Until the House is built And then the Props withdraw And adequate, erect, The House support itself And cease to recollect The Auger and the Carpenter— Just such a retrospect Hath the perfected Life— A past of Plank and Nail And slowness—then the Scaffolds drop Affirming it a Soul.
Out for a walk tonight, the dog is throwing all her weight against the leash, lunging toward the fat tomcat licking his black ankles with a delicious, solemn attention at the top of the neighbor’s steps. Because this is what the dog was made to do. Because for some lucky animals the space between the... Read more »
Alex dresses up in a sweet black suit for his Central High senior picture holding his trumpet as if he will raise it like a silver night-blooming moonflower to play “Sweet Georgia Brown” or “Almost Blue.” Alex has sat in on jazz gigs in New Orleans, San Francisco, D.C. and Saint Paul. He attends summer... Read more »
Much of what is said here must be said twice, a reminder that no one takes an immediate interest in the pain of others. Nobody will listen, it would seem, if you simply admit your baby left you early this morning she didn’t even stop to say good-bye. But if you sing it again with... Read more »
sun breaks over the eucalyptus grove below the wet pasture, water’s about hot, I sit in the open window & roll a smoke. distant dogs bark, a pair of cawing crows; the twang of a pygmy nuthatch high in a pine— from behind the cypress windrow the mare moves up, grazing. a soft continuous roar... Read more »
Tired and hungry, late in the day, impelled to leave the house and search for what might lift me back to what I had fallen away from, I stood by the shore waiting. I had walked in the silent woods: the trees withdrew into their secrets. Dusk was smoothing breadths of silk over the lake,... Read more »