Mark thy calendar …

THE GREEN LINE
CAFÉ POETRY SERIES

& POETRY IN COMMON

CELEBRATE THE PUBLICATION

OF THE NEW BOOK, STEP LIGHTLY,

BY DONNA WOLF-PALACIO


WITH A BOOK SIGNING & READING

On TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 2018, 7 PM
including
An INTRODUCTION & READING
BY LEONARD GONTAREK


THE GREEN LINE CAFE IS LOCATED
AT 45TH & LOCUST STREETS
PHILADELPHIA, PA
(Please note the address, there are
  other Green Line Café locations.)

greenlinecafe.com

     This Event Is Free







Donna Wolf-Palacio  is author of What I Don't Know  The Other Side, and Step Lightly, published by Finishing Line Press.  She taught a poetry workshop at the University of the Arts and was editor/consultant of the UARTS Poetry Review.  She has published her writing in Poetry, The Pennsylvania Gazette, The Musehouse Journal, Intro, The Interpreter, Poems ftom the Heart: Poems about Adoption,  and Voices .She has received grants from the National Endowment of the Humanities, the Leeway Foundation, and the Pennsyvania Council for the Arts.





Poems of Donna Wolf-Palacio:


Step Lightly


You never seemed to get it right, the puzzle of your mother.
No god or therapy could free you from those wires she tugged
to keep the medicine flowing.  So you read the masters for a sign,
Winnicott, Freud, the family people, stars so far away,
yet windows of hope for a real eternity.

Some days I see your eyes blink with disbelief
at their humane unwavering light.
Yet while you searched, your words and teaching
brought you to the source.  Sometimes, you couldn't take it in.
There was so much rage in you.  But other times you took it whole,
and what you made was personal, irreplaceable.





Hells and Hierarchies


        “All hells and heirarchies are works of the imagination.”
                        Anthony Madrid


Could it be more true?
The past
a plate
we can't break.
Each piece has
a spot.
And there it is, outlay to the outlay.
Mind around it
in memory.  The stone falls.
Maybe a small stone.
Still, a stone.





Reading the Poetry of Du Fu

I like the sound of the words in the old poem, “little farm boat”.
They take me out of this house, this city, this time.
We glide down a river.  The town fades behind the blue trees, and the house
is a white dot on the shore.  Little farm boat in autumn.