The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
From Endymion Book I A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases, it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind... Read more »
The cat licks its paw and lies down in the bookshelf nook She can lie in a sphinx position without moving for so many hours and then turn her head to me and rise and stretch and turn her back to me and lick her paw again as if no real time had passed It... Read more »
Once some people were visiting Chekhov. While they made remarks about his genius the Master fidgeted. Finally he said, “Do you like chocolates?” They were astonished, and silent. He repeated the question, whereupon one lady plucked up her courage and murmured shyly, “Yes.” “Tell me,” he said, leaning forward, light glinting from his spectacles, “what... Read more »
So what do you want? he growled inside the chopper, strapping me roughly to the stretcher as if I were already dead. “Jesus,” I swore, delirious with pain, touching the hot mush of my legs. “To see my wife. Go home, play with my kids, help them grow up. You know.” His camouflaged face was... Read more »
As I drive into town the driver in front of me runs a stop sign. A pedestrian pulls down his cap. A man comes out of his house to sweep the steps. Ordinariness bright as raspberries. I turn on the radio. Somebody tells me the day is sunny and warm. A woman laughs and my... Read more »
Helmet and rifle, pack and overcoat Marched through a forest. Somewhere up ahead Guns thudded. Like the circle of a throat The night on every side was turning red. They halted and they dug. They sank like moles Into the clammy earth between the trees. And soon the sentries, standing in their holes, Felt the... Read more »