charlie hensler
LightNews LightNews
banner
chaswriter.bsky.social
charlie hensler
@chaswriter.bsky.social
810 followers 1.6K following 160 posts

"Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you"
- John Ashbery

Posts Replies Media Videos
chaswriter.bsky.social
beach walk and the delicious warmth of the sun in February
Photo of beach and pools of receding tidal waters, the sun and feathery clouds above.
February 8, 2026 at 6:56 PM
chaswriter.bsky.social
Jane Kenyon

#smallpoemsunday
@tomsnarsky.bsky.social
In the Grove: The Poet at Ten | Jane Kenyon She lay on her back in the timothy and gazed past the doddering auburn heads of sumac. A cloud—huge, calm, and dignified—covered the sun but did not, could not, put it out. The light surged back again. Nothing could rouse her then from that joy so violent it was hard to distinguish from pain.
January 25, 2026 at 6:20 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
toddedillard.bsky.social
Hi friends! I am hosting a poetry workshop focused on line breaks via ONLY POEMS in TEN DAYS! Check it out! shop.onlypoems.com/products/end...
THE END OF THE LINE ✦ Todd Dillard
In this workshop, we will decouple the idea of a line break from historical influence and intuition, and explore a variety of craft strategies to use when considering how to break a line.
shop.onlypoems.com
January 14, 2026 at 7:39 PM
chaswriter.bsky.social
Deep in the cold season - today's PR daily poem.
Uche Nduka A Green Dream Winter frock marigold robe between brownstones where yearning confesses its nature when the mail makes you happy even when this circle begs to be part of a square it’s madness to hate the visitation of grackles
January 13, 2026 at 6:19 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
adrianf.bsky.social
My new poetry column is up, with a round-up of winter snow poems to consider - featuring poems by Louise Glück, Carl Phillips, @toddedillard.bsky.social, Alex Dimitrov, Emily Dickinson, Joy Harjo & other favorites.

stratfordcrier.com/a-kind-of-sn...
a little girl is shoveling snow with a shovel and a bag .
Alt: a little child is shoveling snow with a shovel and falls over, only to be righted by their parent.
media.tenor.com
December 15, 2025 at 12:56 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
alinaetc.bsky.social
i imagine the earth when I am no more:
Nothing happens, no loss, it’s still a strange pageant

- Czeslaw Milosz
AND YET THE BOOKS And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings, That appeared once, still wet As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn, And, touched, coddled, began to live In spite of fires on the horizon, castles blown up, Tribes on the march, planets in motion. "We are," they said, even as their pages Were being torn out, or a buzzing flame Licked away their letters. So much more durable Than we are, whose frail warmth Cools down with memory, disperses, perishes. I imagine the earth when I am no more: Nothing happens, no loss, it's still a strange pageant, Women's dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley. Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born, Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights. translated by Milosz and Robert Hass
December 28, 2025 at 2:07 AM
Reposted by charlie hensler
tomsnarsky.bsky.social
A prose poem of mine up at Soft Union
Poetry Wet food for adult cats, the stars you can't see, a cup of water after a glass of milk, finding the other glove, decommissioned death ray, calendar with no Tuesdays, the saint's finger bone accidentally transferred to the poorest church, finding something you had lost in the hiding place you were going to use for something else, surprise kheer with plenty of cardamom, a live version of that one song, space dust past our light cone, light touch of the regretful soldier, the many refusals that make us, hovering around the decision like a fly looking to leave and finding only glass, only glass
December 18, 2025 at 7:53 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
ireneaddie.bsky.social
A small poem by
Dorothea Grossman for #smallpoemsunday
@tomsnarsky.bsky.social
A poem titled Fairy Tale by Dorothea Grossman
December 14, 2025 at 11:49 AM
chaswriter.bsky.social
a little poem about (when the tank is utterly dry) attempting a poem...
#smallpoemsunday, @tomsnarsky.bsky.social
Nowhere To Hang My Hat Let the day tick—a clock, a string drawn taut beneath a bow. I’ve hauled my husk to the shore of this white, wide page again. Out of the sky, over the lake an airplane falls—small, silver, a samara spiraling into a blue mirror. And tonight, the night will wear your captain’s hat high in the bare-branched maple.
December 14, 2025 at 5:45 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
tomsnarsky.bsky.social
for sadness, for sadness

Daniel Halpern
Passing Sometimes you called on those you’d never know to come with you in place of those you loved, and talked to them and touched them and let them close purely for sadness, for sadness you’d hold them, and you’d let them go.
December 10, 2025 at 7:43 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
jamesmcconachie1.bsky.social
I often think of this poem.
December 9, 2025 at 6:08 PM
chaswriter.bsky.social
sun out in november thus a walk in the woods
photo of a trail in the woods. a leaning alder. sun through the trees.
November 19, 2025 at 10:29 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
toddedillard.bsky.social
I have a new poem in @havehashad.com that answers the burning question of "what is the opposite of an 'eating poems' poem"

"it's all coming up now,
milkweed and mango..."

www.havehashad.com/hadposts/hei...
Heimlich After I Eat Poetry Too Quickly Again by Todd Dillard
It's all coming up now, milkweed and mango, grandmothers in kitchens with their stoic spoons, crows barking in alder trees, enough dead deer to overflow football stadiums, sad f...
www.havehashad.com
November 17, 2025 at 4:36 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
toddedillard.bsky.social
NEW POEM ALERT! got a couple new ones in the latest issue of @lamplitmag.bsky.social. Here's the lamp-iest one :)
The Lampshade At the gates of heaven they said let's review: six snails eaten, but no burning buildings entered to save a child, a puppy, a mother's music box. You splashed into a dozen rivers, but many more you saw and never touched, never thought to touch. And yet, you spent most of your life working on this one species of looking. You'd see a wooden door and make a face from its knots and whorls. You'd find a dead cardinal and would wonder if the dead forget the color red first. Mostly we were impressed with this hat you made one night out of a lampshade. Your toddler laughed so hard he nearly lost his voice. After finishing his bedtime, you turned to go, and he told you to stay. We liked how he pulled an imaginary string dangling out of your nose. How you shut your eyes afterwards and lay perfectly motionless beside him. For years your son believed light is something you become. It's waiting, there, under your skin.
November 14, 2025 at 12:48 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
poetrysociety.org.uk
The Poetry Society was delighted to host Diane Seuss on Monday 10th November for the latest in the prestigious Kenneth Allott / Poetry Society Annual Lecture series

The lecture is now available to view on the Poetry Society's Vimeo channel at vimeo.com/1135802263 or see link in bio
November 12, 2025 at 11:00 AM
Reposted by charlie hensler
toddedillard.bsky.social
I don't know if people know this but good poems are hard to write
November 10, 2025 at 8:17 PM
chaswriter.bsky.social
last of fall around here
late fall foliage in the pacific northwest late fall foliage in the pacific northwest late fall foliage in the pacific northwest late fall foliage in the pacific northwest
November 9, 2025 at 3:45 AM
chaswriter.bsky.social
a fall walk in the park
photograph of a line of smaller maples, across a green park lawn, under a partly cloudy fall sky
November 8, 2025 at 10:48 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
theshorepoetry.bsky.social
The Shore contributor Catherine Pierce is now offering online poetry workshops! 🌊🌊🌊

Check it out here: www.studioandcraft.com
Studio & Craft
Studio & Craft is a poetry community offering generative sessions, workshops, and manuscript consultations.
www.studioandcraft.com
November 4, 2025 at 8:30 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
grousehollow.bsky.social
Thrilled to have my poem “In Christ There Is No East or West” in the new issue of @antiphonyjournal.bsky.social Huge thanks to editor/founder Ann Pedone not only for accepting the work but for wise, wise edits. For optimum reading due to long lines, turn your phone landscape-wise, or read on laptop.
In Christ There Is No East or West by Michael Metivier — Antiphony: a journal & small press
www.antiphonyajournalandpress.com
November 1, 2025 at 4:31 PM
chaswriter.bsky.social
a spooky ghost poem I forgot I had written -
Ghost In the late, tilted hours I can find you sitting in a derelict sedan hood in the blackberries, last sun slanting through the dusty glass. I did not choose my absences you will tell me—the days became a parade of ghosts, one introducing the next— one made of tattered newspaper, another colored shapes gliding behind beaded glass. Such presence—you can’t imagine you will say, folding back into your blue silence, lighting a cigarette though you never smoked.
October 31, 2025 at 5:11 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
victoriachang.bsky.social
Rest in peace, Ellen Bryant Voigt. You were a force of nature and one of the sharpest people I've ever known. You will be greatly missed.
October 24, 2025 at 5:11 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
amsterdamreview.bsky.social
Our Fall 2025 issue is OUT NOW!

Featuring an #interview with Keetje Kuipers and works by Sean Thomas Dougherty, Suzy Eynon, Jason Bentsman, Chelsea Dingman, and many more.

Read here: bit.ly/AmsterdamReview

#poetry #fiction #translations #finearts #amsterdam 🇳🇱
Amsterdam Review Fall 2025 issue is OUT NOW! Featuring an #interview with Keetje Kuipers and works by Sean Thomas Dougherty, Suzy Eynon, Jason Bentsman, Chelsea Dingman, and many more.
October 9, 2025 at 2:49 PM
chaswriter.bsky.social
Louise Glück, on fall.

"Or was the point always
to continue without a sign?"
Matins | Louise Glück You want to know how I spend my time? I walk the front lawn, pretending to be weeding. You ought to know I’m never weeding, on my knees, pulling clumps of clover from the flower beds: in fact I’m looking for courage, for some evidence my life will change, though it takes forever, checking each clump for the symbolic leaf, and soon the summer is ending, already the leaves turning, always the sick trees going first, the dying turning brilliant yellow, while a few dark birds perform their curfew of music. You want to see my hands? As empty now as at the first note. Or was the point always to continue without a sign?
October 4, 2025 at 6:35 PM
Reposted by charlie hensler
northamerreview.bsky.social
Our newest issue is out now!! Find it online here: northamericanreview.org/magazine
October 3, 2025 at 3:52 PM