The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
I’d like to have a wild bird Perch on my hand A sparrow or A chickadee Sudden with her sharp feet And fragile daring I’d like to see again The etchings Rembrandt made Of stories from the Bible Though they’re as plain As Bethlehem’s hay A radiance fills them And I would like to visit... Read more »
was named Paul Gauguin, too. He was an artist, too. He lived in Denmark in his grandfather’s shadow all his life. And he chafed against that shadow. Like living under a rock— a rock as big as the biggest island in French Polynesia. He painted only insects. Insects that live under rocks— beetles, ants, centipedes,... Read more »
What streets, what taxis transport them over bridges & speed bumps-my daughters swift in pursuit of union? What suitors amuse them, what mazes of avenues tilt & confuse them as pleasure, that pinball goes bouncing off light posts & lands in a pothole, only to pop up & roll in the gutter? What footloose new... Read more »
was with Sonia in the closet a summer morning her parents off to work and the neighbor kids were playing spin the bottle which Sonia did and it stopped dead at me so they pushed us into a closet and there we were in the dark muffled among the hanging clothes nervous excited we didn’t... Read more »
The text of today’s poem is not available online.
When I finally arrive there— And it will take many days and nights— I would like to believe others will be waiting and might even want to know how it was. So I will reminisce about a particular sky or a woman in a white bathrobe or the time I visited a narrow strait where... Read more »