The Writer's Almanac

Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.

Recent Episodes

The Writer’s Almanac for April 10, 2015

Some nights I think of it, moving to Malibu, just as I stretch, like a cat stretches, to my full length, as though I am easing into cool waters. I imagine the blue of the sea; the bright green leaves of the geranium on the patio, the bright pink blooms, the yellow sun and white... Read more »

The Writer’s Almanac for April 9, 2015

            On the stage set                     of the Piazza della Rotunda         A couple of thousand citizens                         (some still in togas)                                 strolling about or                                            sitting at café tables And an old old flowerseller                           passing among the tables             bending over young couples in jeans                                    as they whisper together                           and offering them                                 her so dry flowers And they not deigning... Read more »

The Writer’s Almanac for April 8, 2015

        Oh, po’ sinner,         Now is yo’ time         Oh, po’ sinner         What yo’ gwine to do when de lamp burn down? Oh, de lamp burn down an’ yo’ cannot see;       What yo’ gwine t’ do when de lamp burn down? Oh, de lamp burm down an’ yo’ cannot see;       What yo’ gwine t’ do when de... Read more »

The Writer’s Almanac for April 7, 2015

Motion and Means, on land and sea at war With old poetic feeling, not for this, Shall ye, by Poets even, be judged amiss! Nor shall your presence, howsoe’ er it mar The loveliness of Nature, prove a bar To the Mind’s gaining that prophetic sense Of future change, that point of vision, whence May... Read more »

The Writer’s Almanac for April 6, 2015

there are song birds singing and roosters crowing, dogs barking and a pneumatic drill being used on the sidewalk below, and I wake remembering these things from Omaha as if the sound of the sea, of the gulls were from Omaha, too, wake wondering that I have traveled so far to find dream and reality... Read more »

The Writer’s Almanac for April 5, 2015

The air was soft, the ground still cold. In the dull pasture where I strolled Was something I could not believe. Dead grass appeared to slide and heave, Though still too frozen-flat to stir, And rocks to twitch and all to blur. What was this rippling of the land? Was matter getting out of hand... Read more »