Fault

In this poem i think the author is talking about some one that lives near the San Andreas Fault and his mom is worried about it happening and she wont see him again so he is going to move somewhere else to get away from it. 

In the airport bar, I tell my mother not to worry.
No one ever tripped and fell into the San Andreas
Fault. But as she dabs at her dry eyes, I remember
those old movies where the earth does open.

There's always one blonde entomologist, four
deceitful explorers, and a pilot who's good-looking
but not smart enough to take off his leather jacket
in the jungle.

Still, he and Dr. Cutie Bug are the only ones
who survive the spectacular quake because
they spent their time making plans to go back
to the Mid-West and live near his parents

while the others wanted to steal the gold and ivory
then move to Los Angeles where they would rarely
call their mothers and almost never fly home
and when they did for only a few days at a time.

—Ron Koertge

A Man I Knew

In this poem i think the author is talking about a man whos kids had died and the only person that comes to his house now is the maid.

has a condo

a maid who comes
every other week

kids who won't

are on the dresser
they float forever

like a boat

—Margaret Levine

A New Poet

In this poem I think the author is trying to say that finding a new poet it super difficult. I think this because of the metaphors that the author uses to describe what its like to find a new poet. One example of a metaphor the author uses is “the mustiness of the sea on a foggy day”.

In the Well

In this poem i think the author is talking about a brave kid who has enough courage to get roped down a well to help his neighbors and save their dog that was stuck at the bottom of the well. You can see the stress of the situation because the author talks about how the kid going down the well was getting hurt on the way down there.

My father cinched the rope,
a noose around my waist,
and lowered me into
the darkness. I could taste

my fear. It tasted first
of dark, then earth, then rot.
I swung and struck my head
and at that moment got

another then: then blood,
which spiked my mouth with iron.
Hand over hand, my father
dropped me from then to then:

then water. Then wet fur,
which I hugged to my chest.
I shouted. Daddy hauled
the wet rope. I gagged, and pressed

my neighbor's missing dog
against me. I held its death
and rose up to my father.
Then light. Then hands. Then breath.

—Andrew Hudgins

Hand Shadows

I think this poem is about a kid and their dad camping out in the woods in their tent and the dad is making shadow puppets with his hand as the kid sits there and watches. I think they are camping outside on a hill overlooking a nice view because the way the author talks about the sky makes me think of that type of location.

My father put his hands in the white light
of the lantern, and his palms became a horse
that flicked its ears and bucked; an alligator
feigning sleep along the canvas wall leapt up
and snapped its jaws in silhouette, or else
a swan would turn its perfect neck and drop
a fingered beak toward that shadowed head
to lightly preen my father's feathered hair.
Outside our tent, skunks shuffled in the woods
beneath a star that died a little every day,
and from a nebula of light diffused
inside Orion's sword, new stars were born.
My father's hands became two birds, linked
by a thumb, they flew one following the other.

—Mary Cornish

American Cheese

I think this poem is about someone who is really passionate for cheese and its the best thing ever to them.

At department parties, I eat cheeses
my parents never heard of—gooey 
pale cheeses speaking garbled tongues.
I have acquired a taste, yes, and that's
okay, I tell myself. I grew up in a house
shaded by the factory's clank and clamor.
A house built like a square of sixty-four
American Singles, the ones my mother made lunches
With—for the hungry man who disappeared
into that factory, and five hungry kids.
American Singles. Yellow mustard. Day-old 
Wonder Bread. Not even Swiss, with its mysterious
holes. We were sparrows and starlings
still learning how the blue jay stole our eggs,
our nest eggs. Sixty-four Singles wrapped in wax—
dig your nails in to separate them.

When I come home, I crave—more than any home
cooking—those thin slices in the fridge. I fold
one in half, drop it in my mouth. My mother
can't understand. Doesn't remember me
being a cheese eater, plain like that.

—Jim Daniels

Before She Died

In this poem I think it’s a bout someone thinking about their dog that has died and they think about them a lot and reminisce on times with them. This poem has a sad feel to it  in my opinion and i feel like the author was trying to give the reader the same feel the person in the poem has.

Border Lines

In this poem i think the author was talking about how border lines do not seperate us its just another side of other people on the other side of the line. I think this because it says “The border is what joins us, not seperates us”.

Legal Alien

In this poem i think the author is talking about how different races view other races and what they think of them. I think this because in the poem it said “An American to Mexicans, a Mexican to Americans”.

Tour

In this poem i think it was about someone who is admiring a shrine.