poetryneedsapen.blogspot.com

Poetry Needs A Pen

Poetry Needs A Pen. Saturday, September 23, 2017. 1 Almost anything can be preserved in a jar. 2 Mid-dusk dreams: women. With swollen hairstyles,. 3 What gives us the right to listen to someone else's body? 4 I don't know to whom these places belong. 5 At our vertices: God. 6 Imagine the most terrible light. I want to know if we will imagine. Minor Cantation (for M. Palmer). It wakes up burning. Thrashes across the ecru land. Maeuvers yellow to gray,. Fescue, like absentminded tools. What nerves it down,.

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Poetry Needs A Pen | poetryneedsapen.blogspot.com Reviews

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Poetry Needs A Pen. Saturday, September 23, 2017. 1 Almost anything can be preserved in a jar. 2 Mid-dusk dreams: women. With swollen hairstyles,. 3 What gives us the right to listen to someone else's body? 4 I don't know to whom these places belong. 5 At our vertices: God. 6 Imagine the most terrible light. I want to know if we will imagine. Minor Cantation (for M. Palmer). It wakes up burning. Thrashes across the ecru land. Maeuvers yellow to gray,. Fescue, like absentminded tools. What nerves it down,.

<META> KEYWORDS

1 polygon love poems

2 mirroring bombs

3 the same light

4 alisha dietzman

5 posted by

6 john myers

7 the morning star

8 a grassy cough

9 here no man

10 henceforth into

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polygon love poems,mirroring bombs,the same light,alisha dietzman,posted by,john myers,the morning star,a grassy cough,here no man,henceforth into,jennifer soong,any identity,human being,chaos,the definition,or gave birth,nursed by me,i choose both,lodge

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Poetry Needs A Pen | poetryneedsapen.blogspot.com Reviews

https://poetryneedsapen.blogspot.com

Poetry Needs A Pen. Saturday, September 23, 2017. 1 Almost anything can be preserved in a jar. 2 Mid-dusk dreams: women. With swollen hairstyles,. 3 What gives us the right to listen to someone else's body? 4 I don't know to whom these places belong. 5 At our vertices: God. 6 Imagine the most terrible light. I want to know if we will imagine. Minor Cantation (for M. Palmer). It wakes up burning. Thrashes across the ecru land. Maeuvers yellow to gray,. Fescue, like absentminded tools. What nerves it down,.

INTERNAL PAGES

poetryneedsapen.blogspot.com

1

Poetry Needs A Pen: Work Song

http://poetryneedsapen.blogspot.com/2012/10/work-song.html

Poetry Needs A Pen. Sunday, October 14, 2012. My name is Henri. Listen. It's morning. I pull my head from my scissors, I pull. The light bulb from my mouth- Boss comes at me. While I'm still blinking. Pastes the pink slip on my collarbone. It's OK, I say, I was a lazy worker, and I stole. I wipe my feet on his skullcap on the way out. I am Henri, mouth full of soda crackers. I live in Toulouse, which is a piece of cardboard. Summers the Mayor paints it blue, we fish in it. Like my parents' child, Henri.

2

Poetry Needs A Pen: Lodge

http://poetryneedsapen.blogspot.com/2013/08/lodge.html

Poetry Needs A Pen. Wednesday, August 14, 2013. Pussy jerky dry. HOLOCAUST FLUFF she says. You don't write that kind of stuff. I like the sight of my own blood. It makes me feel alive. I like a blood drive, and to feel the tube warming up with blood; to watch it fill the plastic pouch. Health. A packet of my inestimable substance. I think about what cannot be contained in this world. A box of night? Compounds: Human. Boxcar. Different colored train cars, and some cabooses. Her belly sawed open and steami...

3

Poetry Needs A Pen

http://poetryneedsapen.blogspot.com/2012/12/normal.html

Poetry Needs A Pen. Wednesday, December 5, 2012. I thank You God for most this amazing. Day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees. And a blue true dream of sky; and for everything. Which is natural which is infinite which is yes. I who have died am alive again today,. And this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth. Day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay. Great happening illimitably earth. How should tasting touching hearing seeing. Breathing any—lifted from the no.

4

Poetry Needs A Pen: Our Songs

http://poetryneedsapen.blogspot.com/2013/10/our-songs.html

Poetry Needs A Pen. Saturday, October 5, 2013. For a long time now I've been trying to write about our songs. But I can't. But I'm going to try again. I heard our songs long before I ever knew their names. Through my brother, and my mom and my dad. They said our songs were great so I believed them. The first of our songs I ever loved was "Sir Duke." I heard it through the walls in the house. It made them seem watery. Thin, like skin deep. And I remember falling in love. Our songs were like a movie of Rom...

5

Poetry Needs A Pen: Letters to Wendy's

http://poetryneedsapen.blogspot.com/2012/06/letters-to-wendys.html

Poetry Needs A Pen. Friday, June 15, 2012. May 25, 1997. Wendy's needs a stench area. People like a stench. Their initial reaction- pained withdrawal- is always quickly followed by cautious fascination. A stench is a stink. That has found a way to entrench. Itself. It is metaphor: abstraction digs in. To a real body and decomposes it to the point of presence. People like a stench because it mimics their own truest moments.

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Poetry Needs A Pen

Poetry Needs A Pen. Saturday, September 23, 2017. 1 Almost anything can be preserved in a jar. 2 Mid-dusk dreams: women. With swollen hairstyles,. 3 What gives us the right to listen to someone else's body? 4 I don't know to whom these places belong. 5 At our vertices: God. 6 Imagine the most terrible light. I want to know if we will imagine. Minor Cantation (for M. Palmer). It wakes up burning. Thrashes across the ecru land. Maeuvers yellow to gray,. Fescue, like absentminded tools. What nerves it down,.

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Multas per gentes et multa per aequora vectus. Carried through many nations and over many seas. Advenio has miseras, frater, ad inferias,. I arrived, brother, for these wretched funeral rites. Ut te postremo donarem munere mortis. So that I might present you with the last tribute of death. Et mutam nequiquam alloquerer cinerem. And speak in vain to silent ash,. Quandoquidem fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum. Since fortune has carried away from me you in the flesh. Heu miser indigne frater adempte mihi,.