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Poetry Breakfast

Beginning March 20th, 2016 Poetry Breakfast will once again serve a little poetic nourishment every morning. Start your day with our new expanded menu. Poems, of course, are our specialty. But we will also be serving a fuller menu that includes poetry related creative non-fiction such as letters to and from poets, essays on poetry, and anything else that might feed a poet and poetry lover’s soul.

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April Krassner

What Journey? by April Krassner

What Journey?
by April Krassner

Circling around with Mathilda,
the little girl in the back seat,
curly, brown hair Buddha belly.
You know her? She’s always
back there, facing forward, arms
a-waving, Where are we going,
Mathilda and me? Nowhere at all,
Nowhere in particular—Good night,
Moon
and now dusk. Good night
mailbox and street, good night
,
and now light and dream and old
Tom’s husky voice waltzes us around
and around, the spins, turns
of the elegant evening drive. She
is lonely, Mathilda, lonely for the chorus,
the inner rhymes and reasons, lonely
for the suburban streets she left behind.
We are still crossing the river. Something
told us to go, to leave this bedroom town,
to go. Mathilda shrieks. Oh, the river,
good night. Good night Irene, Good night.

Mathilda waves goodbye.

April Krassner is a poet and essayist living in the New York area. She teaches writing at New York University to adult students who are seeking their undergraduate degrees. She received her MFA from Sarah Lawrence College quite a long time ago. Her work has appeared in Iconoclast, Poet Lore, Zing and, most recently, Anderbo.

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Oh, Think of Cezanne or Braques or Maybe Someone Smoother Like Vermeer by April Krassner

Oh, Think of Cezanne or Braques or Maybe Someone Smoother Like Vermeer
by April Krassner

Instruction comes in the form of fruit. Peach
does not appreciate the meanness
of apple, the pretentiousness of pear,
the insistence on silent screaming
in the face of more traditional
observation. What is the point of color?
Such exhibitionism! Natural
sugar all sweetness exposed and nothing
left to danger, to imagination.

Of course, the worst are the bananas
reading Chekhov, adopting airs, phony
accents. These fruits are stupid, all of them
completely ignorant of real desire.
They acknowledge patience and ripening
and living in the glory of tremendous
reputation. Pay closer attention
to the cloth, to the bowl and what has been
placed purely for the purposes
of seduction. Curve of lemon, watch out.

April Krassner is a poet and essayist living in the New York area. She teaches writing at New York University to adult students who are seeking their undergraduate degrees. She received her MFA from Sarah Lawrence College quite a long time ago. Her work has appeared in Iconoclast, Poet Lore, Zing and, most recently, Anderbo.

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