Artist: P.K. Harmon
Title: What We Did During the Threat of War
Release #: MIF346
Format: Poem
Release Date: 08/13/2017

What We Did During the Threat of War

Chopped carrots and cucumbers--
lunches for the week. 
Took the trash out 
and burned cardboard boxes
at sunset, the sky naturally

lovely. Made pasta and ate it
and washed and folded our clothes. 
It's Sunday. School has started
and the new uniforms are bright

red. I read The World on the 
Turtle's Back, an Iroquois
creation myth, and thought
a bit and looked at the sky
a bit. There are beautiful

souls everywhere, a consistency 
of history. I love the beauty 
of our small place and our lives
in it. I hope everyone reads

and spends time looking
at the sky. But I know not
everyone does. The threat of war
is appealing to some; even everyday
hatred from otherwise agreeable

people can be insufferable.
People can be insufferable. 
True. But today, Sunday, this
little family chopped vegetables 
and ate pasta and watched

a burning that was pretty. 
I think it looked pretty. And we
are sleeping now and dreaming
just the dreams of any quiet home.


 
Artist: P.K. Harmon
Title: What Island
Release #: MIF210
Format: Book
Release Date: December

What is it like to go abroad but not for vacation? What business do we have? What right-minded, haunted search for community, for family, for social justice takes us beyond our borders, domestic rooms, and familiar walls? What responsibility is there—those of us who've been to the two-thirds world, met the 99%, the uninsured, the impoverished—when we arrive and hear the planet's last message: pay attention, live on me. What W. S. Merwin has done to elevate ecology to the poetic, P. K. Harmon now takes—without bravado, without exaggeration—to the source, the sun, the tropics we've wanted, adorned with fantasies of leisure, then ruined. But also, despite any American devastation, what we've loved and longed for: "how blue / and how we turned from one / another into blue—all so blue / those old beaks cutting ahead /the flapping somehow grace too // in the flight—those two into / a deeper and deeper blue and I / drifted closer and closer // to the rough and sharp until / finally the heavy air that is / coming into a lovely silence." What island? The ultimate answer is earth.

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