Poetry for Trash has another new home! And this is the coolest thing: this station is a gift from the Crestmont Boy’s & Girl’s Club Kids who built it with the help of the Hope Builders. Gift Economy in the works!!!   The good folks at Rhinos, an amazing after school program for the coolest… Read More


From the editors: As lovers of poetry and literary crusaders against pollution, we were so interested to hear about this new project, Poetry for Trash. We asked founder and director John-Michael Peter Bloomquist to tell us about the project, his inspiration, and what poetry and trash have in common. Here’s what he had to say: … Read More


Three Steps:   Mauss summarizes that gift giving is biased on three actions: to give, to receive, and to reciprocate, hence, the three steps of Poetry for Trash: 1. Pick a poem 2. Pick up the Trash it is worth 3. Add your own poem     Step one: Pick a poem “Where there is no… Read More


This year for halloween I decided to go to the parade on Oregon Hill and hand out some poems by Poe, Blake, Dickinson, and  Booth  that could be considered halloween themed: there were dead things in the poems. I wrapped the poems in candy. “Is the candy in the poem a metaphor?” some people would ask.… Read More


The morning was  overcast. My friend, the artist Dan Sheets,  was at my door at around 9 am with his daughter in a stroller. “I’ve been up all night cause she was having a hard time sleeping, so I made 17 of these magpies,” he said, surprising me a plastic bag full of  these gorgeous magpies.   He said… Read More


I use to love fishing, actually, I was obsessed with fishing.  I’d sit in my back yard and practice throwing my line into the grass, waiting for the weekend when my dad would take me to Christopher Creek, about two hours away in northern Arizona, so I could catch and cook some rainbow trout.  I… Read More


A poem from Han Shan    I’ve lived out tens of thousands of years on cold Mountain. Given to the seasons, I vanished among forests and cascades, gazed into things so utterly themselves. No one ventures up into all these cliffs hidden forever in white mist and cloud. It’s just me, thin grass my sleeping… Read More


The first poem that was sold by a local Richmonder reenforced  my desire to use the heart sign.  This girl was about to tear out a poem from her book by one of my all-time  favorite poets, Jack Gilbert, but I asked her to write it out instead on a piece of paper: Married I… Read More


:   One of my favorite insects next to the scorpion is the spider. “Grandmother spider” my friend called this one that began to weave its evening web above our heads. She was huge, big as a silver dollar. Folk tales connect the spider with the alphabet, language, and poetry: she weaves her web and… Read More


  Without   the silence of nature within.   the power within the power   without.   the path is whatever passes–no end in itself.   the end is, grace–ease–   healing, not saving.   singing not saving   singing  the proof   the proof of the power within.   By, Gary Snyder    … Read More