ayearinpoems.blogspot.com
A Year in Poems: Lunchette
http://ayearinpoems.blogspot.com/2007/06/lunchette.html
A Year in Poems. Friday, June 8, 2007. It’s known that phantoms eat alphabet soup. They like the language like beans like butter, but better to have all of its parts drowning in a dark sea than to weep through what time you have without ever scrumptiously creating an apple to fall on the dead. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. Still life with Telescope. A Career in Baiting Judges. Coming to the City a Stranger. Everyone’s Wild West. A Black Train Roaring Through the Night.
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A Year in Poems: Coming to the City a Stranger
http://ayearinpoems.blogspot.com/2007/06/coming-to-city-stranger.html
A Year in Poems. Monday, June 11, 2007. Coming to the City a Stranger. The roil of so many pigeons –. Forgive us, and also ask our names. Dark city with a dangerous cliff. And encroaching bald spot,. I of five hundred horsepower. Wail your traditional song. Your streetwalkers do no fear. Me, and your floodgates wave “hello”. To the bus of tourists passing through. Ah, a runner has taken root. An ice cream cone slope droops. With melancholy, or is it something else? Do not ask me, says the brave city.
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A Year in Poems: I Was Working on my Degree
http://ayearinpoems.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-was-working-on-my-degree.html
A Year in Poems. Thursday, May 3, 2007. I Was Working on my Degree. The extensive grounds were thinning. After the sanitation workers ball. My love and I were washing dishes. Here was the most beloved plate to serve. A hand grenade all the way up from the tropics. It deserved a wash in the town’s well. These dishes are nudists naturally. A painted boy from his pastoral predicament. Pleads with me to keep my rag away. From his unpainted genitals. His singing and giggling, communing with the finches,.
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A Year in Poems: In a Dark Church Somewhere
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A Year in Poems. Thursday, May 10, 2007. In a Dark Church Somewhere. Well, your crocheted lamb’s head,. It’s true the heat moves through it. We’ve all been over-baked, you know. You packed enough lies. In your green apple pies. That I believe I’ll have to abstain. While sleeping overnight with the insane. Well, I heard that they were praying. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. God was just a foreign spy, you know. He said they were putting him to sleep. I was nursing him in my cheap. But I doubt it.
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A Year in Poems: A Career in Baiting Judges
http://ayearinpoems.blogspot.com/2007/06/career-in-baiting-judges.html
A Year in Poems. Wednesday, June 13, 2007. A Career in Baiting Judges. A precious artichoke has a heart like a beggar’s. Trampoline. See how it silhouettes,. See its name in print across the chalk line. Of the flywheel. Your birthday was ordained. With a spray of gnats, and you toasted “life”. And “mystery” with your flute of water. I came to celebrate, but I was years late,. And besides, I have no hands. I cannot change. My bandages. I just lie on this trampoline. While beggars jump for artichoke hearts.
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A Year in Poems: Another Empty Dream
http://ayearinpoems.blogspot.com/2007/04/another-empty-dream.html
A Year in Poems. Monday, April 30, 2007. A man was building something in the dream hanging just inside his pillow. It was there he could work uninhibited. The design was simple; the parts were many. Or the design was complex and the parts were incomplete. Whatever it was, it had to be finished before he awoke. Outside, the world’s oldest cloud lost another piece of itself to the air. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. A Little Bit of Eden. An Elephant Never Regrets.
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A Year in Poems: My Hat, My Cane
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A Year in Poems. Friday, May 4, 2007. My Hat, My Cane. Let me get up and fetch my cane. Say it was the end of one day and into the next,. Say the lawnmower has run around. Over Grant’s grave. Let me come to the window,. Let me get up and fetch my cane. I’ve seen it all; I’ve lifted the waterfalls’ evening. Gown and peeked inside – I’ve poured my heart. Into a single letter only to find the ink running scared. Before I could finish the final swoop. Let me get up and fetch my cane; its best use is. Beginni...
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A Year in Poems: By the Break of Day
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A Year in Poems. Wednesday, May 9, 2007. By the Break of Day. There’s a drought on the horizon,. But you couldn’t keep your eyes on. The prize, Kubla Khan, could you? There’s enough cellophane flowing from your brain. To hide your office lunch while you go insane. The boys and girls camped on the lawn. Glance up and down your see-through gown,. And you laugh out loud like a clown. In the railroad shantytown. Who serves you your exquisite Bordeaux. Where do you go? When you’ve lost your way,. When youR...
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A Year in Poems: Still life with Telescope
http://ayearinpoems.blogspot.com/2007/06/still-life-with-telescope.html
A Year in Poems. Thursday, June 14, 2007. Still life with Telescope. Across the marsh the calls of sound,. And I received them in a trance. Undead noble princes and teacher’s chalk. With eyes flaming to advance. No meteorite, no angel of night. Swimming naked across the swill. And I was above the splinted dove,. And the days were getting darker, darker still. I’ve lived a lie, an ancient lie,. With a slogan too silent to detect,. And fool’s fire flaming from the blue. With nothing solid to protect. Begin...
