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Yermiyahu Ahron Taub is the author of five books of poetry: “The Education of a Daffodil,” “Prayers of a Heretic,” “Uncle Feygele,” “What Stillness Illuminated,” and “The Insatiable Psalm.” He was honored by the Museum of Jewish Heritage as one of New York’s best emerging Jewish artists and has been nominated four times for a Pushcart Prize and twice for a Best of the Net award. Visit him at www.yataub.net. Where Once Were Cherry Blossoms

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oin us at the Poets’ Corner at the Literary Hill BookFest on Sunday, May 7, 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. in the North Hall of Eastern Market. Then cross the street to the patio at Tunnicliff’s Tavern for Poets’ Corner @ Tunnicliff’s, our second annual reading and open-mic event. To share your poetry, sign up at the BookFest or, after 3 p.m., on the patio. Everyone is welcome – to read or simply to listen to some of the most creative voices in the DC literary scene. Here’s a sampling.

You should have come in spring. A light translucent scalloped the noonday lake. The water tranquil pummeled the barricades of our winterness. Coy fish caressed our limbs free of care. Brightly, we drifted on seagrass gondolas. The echoes of anise arias trilled from weeping willows onshore. Nymphs arrived to usher in the season of dance. You should have come in spring. Fragrances leaped from the hearth over flagstones onto the village green. Perhaps of mimosa or peppermint. Perhaps of purple pears? Loaves laced with crunch and cliffs lined sideboards and tables alike. Intoxicated, we nibbled on bliss morsels until the moon slipped away. The poor came to partake. And still there was more. You should have come in spring. We walked the meadows glistening; hope we chanted into rain: Esperanza! Esperanza! To farmers we called out silkily of harvests to come and the gilding of tomorrows. We spooned gnarled oaks; eagerly, we embraced branches discarded over lanes once impassable. We dozed under the crackling of crows; the gaze of the jackal could not diminish our gratitude. Our barn doors were ajar. You should have come in spring. Then you could have floated with us, then you could have dined with us, then you could have rejoiced with us. Now you have arrived, stumbling, into an era of whispers and weeping, with its tangle of gray, its residue of accusation. Now look how you have landed into the epicenter of emptiness.

Poet Anna Cohen takes the open mic at the 2016 Poets’ Corner @Tunnicliff’s. Photo: Anna Cohen

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If you had heeded our call, you would have seen Mother descend the staircase with her smile and her symphony. You would have felt her touch, papery with purpose. You would have felt her kiss against the remnants of your sorrow. Come you instead to this bed, with its whiteness so fleeting and these whimpers emanating from depths we could never have foreseen. Come offer witness to the fruit of your delay.

Profile for Capital Community News

Hill Rag Magazine May 2017  

Our flagship publication delivering all of your news from the Capitol.

Hill Rag Magazine May 2017  

Our flagship publication delivering all of your news from the Capitol.

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