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New Poetry by Ann Applegarth

New Poetry by Ann Applegarth

A PLACE IN THE SUN      – basking before Earl Stroh’s “Sunscape” In the museum I love, we stroll and consider paintings, sculptures, and a few random examples of what passes for art in this 21st century. Weary, we sit and gaze at Stroh’s serene, soothing Sunscape – palest oils smoothed in stunning simplicity, no trace of brush or canvas, a silk veil of softest paint encircled by slim silver wire. Glow and warmth are palpable. I should have brought…

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Woman on the Strand

Woman on the Strand

 We have new poetry from Ann Applegarth below. The ocean, the strand, the interaction between self and sea, between our Being in the world versus our Seeing in the world . . . Humanity long ago left the realm of an easy oneness with Nature, but a parallel belief held on, at least through the Romantic period: women were naturally still with Her. Nature itself was feminine. Men had lost the link, but not women, and men could retain that…

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You Know Them Well: New Poems by Ann Applegarth

You Know Them Well: New Poems by Ann Applegarth

LANDLUBBER IN LOVE I smelled the sea today! The aroma of salt-crusted roses, of mother-of-pearl, of adventure, shared its romance unwillingly with one who is no part of it.       YOU KNOW THEM AS WELL AS I DO I never was a woman who could fling a hank of lustrous hair over her right shoulder to punctuate declarative sentences, or one who appears fragile and small when crying. Those glossy women have the edge in life, while the…

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The Elegance of Quick Observations

The Elegance of Quick Observations

 I’m currently about 120 pages into to this marvelous novel, translated from the French by Alison Anderson. A most enjoyable reflection on the human condition, class, Art, sickness, death and how we all seek our own raison d’être. More on this wonderful book later this week . . . Wanted to welcome Ann Applegarth to Spinozablue. We have one of her fine poems on display here, and hope to present more of her visions from the southwest in the future….

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Poetry from New Mexico

Poetry from New Mexico

NIGHT CRAWLER I roam this world on sidewalks littered with images of violence. Maintenance crews work overtime, even on Sundays and Christmas — stout men, crawling on padded knees, scrub concrete with caustic detergent, broad steel-bristled brushes, and elbow grease.  The stains remain. My satin slippers darken and fray. Each dawn finds holes worn through at least a dozen pairs — and I am merely one frail princess, attired for skipping  down streets of polished gold. — by Ann Applegarth…

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