The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
After an absence that was no one’s fault we are shy with each other, and our words seem younger than we are, as if we must return to the time we met and work ourselves back to the present, the way you never read a story from the place you stopped but always start each... Read more »
The speaker points out that we don’t really have much of a grasp of things, not only the big things, the important questions, but the small everyday things. “How many steps up to your back yard? What is the name of your district representative? What did you have for breakfast? What is your wife’s shoe... Read more »
The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother’s countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed... Read more »
So much gloom and doubt in our poetry— flowers wilting on the table, the self regarding itself in a watery mirror. Dead leaves cover the ground, the wind moans in the chimney, and the tendrils of the yew tree inch toward the coffin. I wonder what the ancient Chinese poets would make of all this,... Read more »
Clumps of daffodils along the storefront bend low this morning, late snow pushing their bright heads down. The flag snaps and tugs at the pole beside the door. The old freezer, full of Maine blueberries and breaded scallops, mumbles along. A box of fresh bananas on the floor, luminous and exotic… I take what I... Read more »
Tell all the truth but tell it slant — Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth’s superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind —