Somehow, at every library book sale I come away with poetry books: anthologies, individual authors, it doesn’t matter. Somehow I buy them!

This year in April, I did not focus on reading poetry as I have in the past. It’s about time.

This August, I pledge to read poems and write about them on this blog.

Would you care to join me?

On August 1, I’ll have a linky open. If you post on a volume of poetry, an anthology, a single poem, or a book about poetry during the month of August 2013, come link up! Even if you don’t get anything read and posted about, you can read our posts.

Sign the linky if you have a blog and would like commit to joining in! If you don’t have a blog, you can also join in by sharing your thoughts in the comments.

The title of my summer’s poetry project comes from this poem by Emily Dickinson:

A something in a summer’s day,
As slow her flambeaux burn away,
Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer’s noon, —
An azure depth, a wordless tune,
Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer’s night
A something so transporting bright,
I clap my hands to see;

Then veil my too inspecting face,
Lest such a subtle, shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me.

The wizard-fingers never rest,
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes its narrow bed;

Still rears the East her amber flag,
Guides still the sun along the crag
His caravan of red,

Like flowers that heard the tale of dews,
But never deemed the dripping prize
Awaited their low brows;

Or bees, that thought the summer’s name
Some rumor of delirium
No summer could for them;

Or Arctic creature, dimly stirred
By tropic hint, — some travelled bird
Imported to the wood;

Or wind’s bright signal to the ear,
Making that homely and severe,
Contented, known, before

The heaven unexpected came,
To lives that thought their worshipping
A too presumptuous psalm.

–Emily Dickinson