About The New AgrarianI have been planting content here off and on since 2002, with occasional attempts at cultivation and pruning. All of it swirls around more or less agrarian ideas: food and agriculture, including some practical things, but also craft, community, technology, embodiment, history, sustainability, nature, and place. As you might guess, I’ve changed my mind a few times on all these topics since I started a decade ago. I cultivate, but not always in neat rows. Read my Explanation and Apologia to learn more.
The fine printThe New Agrarian is copyright ©2002–2017 by David Walbert. All rights reserved, but I'm generally pretty nice about sharing, so feel free to ask.
Category Archives: Poems
It was a slow winter for poetry, but here’s the roundup. If you’re new to this, read the Cheap Poetry Manifesto. The decorations are put away in pieces and in bitses but the holiday ain’t over ’til we eat the … Continue reading
Damn you, sirs! My vote is not my voice! —He cried in futile fury at his email— As if for quadrennia I silent slumbered And woke to make myself a number! A vote is a mere puny choice Of wan … Continue reading
(Mental note:) To remember, on some soggy distant morn This peering over moss, together bent And an olive tendril in your gentle hand These autumn days flee into the bluing sky Like bubbles from the hands of laughing children, Their … Continue reading
A carpet of decay, as finely woven As any ancient treasure dearly bought, And lovelier for being more ephemeral: All the artisans of Kublai Khan In all the workshops of a mythic continent Could not invent geometry so fair As … Continue reading
Its ruby goblet dry, the summer flies On wings that beat the hastening pace of time But pauses here for one last sip. Remember Well this welcome banquet. Come again. You lie! My thoughts cannot be captured: They prowl the … Continue reading
Summer is a most untidy guest, A vacation rental every landlord dreads: Crumbs all over the floor, attracting pests, Insects and mice of which we can’t be rid Without some icy extermination. Look At all this filth! This vile disgusting … Continue reading
From his hands a melody unfolds That flits like butterflies through hastening crowd Seeking stillness on which to alight. Summer’s fire sags like an overripe peach And bursting on October’s horizon, splatters Cool evening across the sky.
Words tumble over, clumping, clinging, To roasting pans, potato ricers, caught in the nap Of soft carpet, leaving me Speechless. Dawn opens slowly, with fog-cooled ardor: At the hinge of the day, you have to push harder.
Some poems simply will not permit themselves to be shortened sufficiently for Twitter. They’ll go on Facebook (my feed there is public), and I’ll post them here on Tuesdays under a separate heading.