Posts by anthonybotti

August Hymn

By on Aug 11, 2019 in Featured, Poetry | 0 comments

Let everything remain as it is, the unexpected quiet like the August heat out in the meadow, the sun rubbing the old maples. Look at the black eyed Susans studded by the dirt road drop open as they lose their tight grip. Do not hurry. Nothing about this day asks to be changed, things being just as they are. Come, let us breathe in unison with the cattle in their long stare across the creek on this fine Sunday morning slipping away, this day we cannot hold on to, taking whatever comes like the drifting hawk that rises up in the sky. Kneel down in the tall grass in simple perfection with the...

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K5, (P10, K10) repeat to last 5sts, K5

By on Jan 6, 2019 in Poetry | Comments Off

(knitting pattern for a baby blanket) Your voice unspools inside me knitting on the porch while bats crisscross the yard. The blow-up that morning at Dad’s funeral is as burnished as a scar on that old elm tree we used to play kick the can under. I’m halfway through a blanket for a friend’s baby, using lopi wool skeins hunted down in Ireland last winter. I thought we had reached a truce in that old family quarrel. Yet my fingers will not allow me to rest, the wooden needles ticking knit 10, purl 10 into a basket weave design. Just now I have lost count of the rows and...

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February Day, Boston (II)

By on Feb 25, 2018 in Poetry | Comments Off

— for Ralph Half past seven. I wake from a dream that brought  back everything, get up in silence to sun on the calla lily in the vase, a single beam assaulting the swirled cup. All last night I slept in fits and starts, curled up like a leaf into myself after learning that you were gone, how the shared fact of us in childhood was now buried. Yesterday pent up in this apartment, snow skimmed past the windows on horizontal waves veiling the loss that lingered, drifts piled up on the front steps under the high wind. Even the February air scraped under the peeling windowsill. How did our...

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February Day, Boston

By on Feb 25, 2018 in Poetry | Comments Off

Half past eight. I wake in silence to sun on the calla lily, a single beam assaulting he white swirled cup. Yesterday snow skimmed past the windows on horizontal waves, drifts piling up on the front steps under the high wind. I shoveled snow that fell for three days. February air scrapes under the peeling windowsill. Bleached light skids across the length of the room into each corner on this timid morning before the sun rushes away. This afternoon the narcissus bulbs I planted earlier in clay pots are splitting open, forced out into...

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December Night

By on Jan 21, 2018 in Poetry | Comments Off

The trees know first. An ice storm is moving in. I’m still holding back trouble I’ve carried around in my mind for two days. Yet some worries are always there. Must admit it has felt like an empty year. At midnight I come to bed in pitch black, but nothing brings relief in the clinging cold. All night I live with cracking branches, the wind refusing to die down, and still awake at four a.m. with my brain beating under this blurred sky. The slim birches, stripped of color, flex down and over in the freezing darkness. Then the sky clears, the white trunks straighten by dawn, as in...

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