J. R. Solonche
My Chair
I have placed my chair between
the woods and the feeder, in
the middle of the flight path
of the birds. I want the chickadees
and titmice, the cardinals and
nuthatches to fly above me, to fly
to my right and to my left, to whiz
within inches of my head. I want
to hear the beating of their wings as
they speed by. I want to close my
eyes. I want to feel the sun warm
on my face and on my eyes. I want
to feel the sun warm on their wings
and on the sound of their wings and
on the soft strength of the breathing
of their wings. I want to imagine
what the next world, the world that
I know does not exist, must sound like.
Circle Square
The town square in
my town is called Circle
Square. There’s a church.
There’s a library. There
are two bars. I went
into the library to find
out how it got its name.
They told me it was
named by the town’s
founder who was a math
teacher with a sense
of humor. I went into
the church and asked
the pastor how it got
its name. He said that
the town’s first pastor
named it for the greater
glory of God for whom
nothing is impossible.
I went into the first bar.
They said it was named
for the town’s first drunk
who stumbled in circles
around the square until
he fell flat on his face.
I went into the second
bar. They told me the same
story. Makes sense to me.
Professor emeritus of English at SUNY Orange, J.R. Solonche has published poetry in more than 400 magazines, journals, and anthologies since the early ‘70s. He is the author of more than 20 collections of poetry, including Invisible, which was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize by Five Oaks Press, and, most recently, Selected Poems 2002-2021, nominated for the National Book Award by Serving House Books. He is coauthor, with his wife, Joan I. Siegel, of Peach Girl: Poems for a Chinese Daughter (Grayson Books). He lives in the Hudson Valley.