A n n e W a l d m a n : K e e p i n g T h e W o r l d S a f e F o r P o e t r y

N a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 5 : S p e c i a l E d i t i o n

TIM ATKINS

No Sound But the Motors & the Inner Motors Running on Time Even Intervals of

Breath In Out In Out I Sit Alive & Awake etc & Write You a Sonnet Whose Breath is

Warm Loving Whose Death is Tired Mind Sonnet

Impossible to put anything down, Anne what—

You are so Interests you the moon the act

Across “the skin of the world” A Buddhist

Sniffs the air the way a poet writes,

We just sit with this lineage!

Alice Eleni & Barbara Guest

Do not confuse the nose that points at the smell

With the smell itself. Was this your silent

Transmission one day in July

Standing there in the road

by the Varsity

Apartments Satori! the fourth person plural

The basic poetics

Resists