Mary Kay Rummel
Rainy Day Legs love the furious sea and field green adagios break into swallow song trill, the bees prayer wander in too much or too little seize the day but love night. In hospital pale invalids next to tanned doctors wiggle with four kinds of longing. Humble grass readers stationary travelers long to float anchored by hurting feet, walk to Compostella kneel at Loretta blessed by the Black Madonna; wear down the cobblestones of Prague follow street side hawkers selling Dvorak and Mozart like peanuts haunt the old Jewish quarters; escape from one prison to the next paddle a green river ride the escalator to heaven; know that saints live on the rooftops but God is down below; trudge the Charles Bridge, where violins keen an old man grinds a hurdy-gurdy. Hidden under a kaleidoscope of umbrellas legs vibrate like aerials in the rain read the crossing of waters live on the limen. Mary Kay Rummel's sixth book of poetry, "What's Left Is The Singing," has just been published by Blue Light Press in San Francisco. "Love in the End," has also been published in recent years by Bright Hill Press in New York. She has been thinking lately about her history with small presses-how they have been her life-line as a poet, how essential they are, how editors are driven by dedication, how each one has its own spirit, and how a community grows up around them. See www.marykayrummel.com for more information.
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