In Camaraderie of the Marvelous, Dianna Henning immerses us in worlds of astonishing connections. These are poems where the marvelous occurs, when a “slivered wolf . . .” becomes a “heart’s centerpiece,” and where a summer river “spills salsa music.” In these poems, connections among people and animals and memories are all “reaching across . . .”…
Dianna Henning Reading on North State Public Radio. What Her Grandmother’s Teeth Said As They Sat on the Nightstand in a Cold Glass of Water.
Missing You a poem by Dianna Henning – Published in “The Power of the Feminine Vol II”.
A doe stretches
to reach the topmost
leaves as she strips
our Mock Orange bush,
nose wet as a dew-
dipped blackberry.
The men I worked with at Folsom Prison,
walk single line
down the knife of night,
their eyes averted,
their blue jeans baggy
Dianna Henning‘s Rucksacks for the Leaf Cat is a rucksack filled with treasures for poetry lovers. We find something for every mood.
Conference Paper, 20th Century Literature Conference – University of Louisville – 1990
As dedicated and occasionally as inspiring a poet as Russia’s Anna Akhmatova or this country’s Louise Bogan, is Argentina’s Alfonsina Storni who has been overlooked by English speaking translators and critics. The dynamics of male/female tensions are keenly evident in Stornie’s poems.
The fire carries on with the logs.
Clearly there’s something going on between them.
Like when we first met and harvested each other,
not with fire rather with flesh.
The years are rapt birds,
trilling their delight,
no salt on their tongues
no weights on their wings,
In an unpublished lecture on “Modern Ireland,” Yeats wrote: “And style, whether of life or literature, comes, I think, from excess, from something over and above utility which wrings the heart.” Yeast’s proclivity for writing was derived from his obsessive concern with time, with how quickly it catapults one into old age.
My but we were lovely, captives
and all. Each day the witch
would dress us up. She was keeping us
for herself.
If she were someone else’s sister
I’d again make her mine,
twist her bones