For the fifth year in a row, Juneau's buses are somewhere you can read an original poem written by a local resident, courtesy of the Poetry Omnibus contest.
"Every year has been very different," said organizer Robyn Holloway. This year, she said the quality of submissions was high.
Poems "ride the bus" for a year. This year, there is one for each of Juneau's 16 buses. Eight are written by youth, and eight by adults.
The program is based on similar programs in Seattle, Portland, San Francisco and New York.
By Michael Christenson
Crystal night, clear and crisp
Snow glow mountain, moonlight kissed
Who'd have thought it'd come to this?
la fin de l'idylle, je suis triste
Out beneath undocumented trees
with nothing but a pocket of memories
Konami's not the only cheat -
A broken heart still beats, still beats
Walk with your face to the frozen sky;
All stars sparkle when there's tears in your eyes.
By Bob Fagen
Asters in tears,
grey melt on blue ice
a leaf's yellow splash -
winter dips its brush
soon, the first magpie
By Grace Lumba
Driving in a big white truck
Out the road, buckets rattling
Mom, dad, sister and me
Waiting for the smell of ocean
To seep through open windows
Bubbles in sand
Mark the clam's breath
Finally our shovels smack
The hard-packed Earth
We dig. And dig. For dinner.
By Brierley Ostrander
"I'm the first in the world to touch her," my father says,
As if the marbled cord pulses back into a void,
As if I've just sprung, Venus-like, from some abstract wave-
Never mind those slow nine months since I began to thieve
Just a little of my mother's verve, or the five since
I greeted her with a kick, pressing her lungs for space.
To exist in his world, must I discount her darkness?
To be, must I first shed all skin but my own-unveil
The mystery of womb-wet eyes to his exacting sun?
By Mary Anne Slemmons
The blue jay's perch breaks
One branch less in the forest
One less kitchen spy
By Mary Anne Slemmons
sea stars fat and thin
left bare by the moon-tugged tide
the sky stars see all
By Richard Stokes
Air alive with tiny winged insects
each a quantum of captured sunlight.
They rise and fall, circle and spiral,
to some instinctive script
beyond my understanding.
Work Pays Off: Strawberry Picking Lessons
By Margo Waring
Don't put harvest off; you may miss the peak.
Start with everything you'll need.
Work through the bugs; you'll be glad in the winter.
Change your perspective; a few inches can show treasures.
Many small treasures are better than one big one.
Look from the bottom as well as the top.
Look back; you may have missed something wonderful.
Watch your step. Weed as you go. Be thorough.
Learn when the pickings are so slim it's time to move on.
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