Yesterday At 11:50 AM While doing taxes I finished reading my 700th book And the closing Tzara poem Could not make me forget Soupault’s Georgia (written today)
Tag Archives: poetry
The Bitter Stump
The stump sobs for its pinecone babies unborn, Seeds in their prisons a blasphemous broken promise. Each ring on the tabled trunk now a year of defeat, Spring frozen by death and circumstance. Beneath the sawdust of nature’s hopes The sap congeals, anger in amber. The wound blots out proud heights and soaring sky Leaving …
Haiku
God I miss smoking At least it’s something to do Instead of thinking.
Green Sale
Aging hippies and Hipster wealth converge upon The dispensary
Haiku
Dang. New Car. What kind? At the used car lot the wind Flutters plastic flags.
Sonnet
Though disbelieving visions, Newton sleeps And dreams dark matter does his stars coerce. Too unequivocal is reason’s curse, When stars no spirit stir within the deeps. Thus missing mass into Omega creeps, While Ptolemaic epicycles nurse A woe-torn hopelorn empty universe, And God within his mausoleum weeps. Unworthy empty space must meaning be? Perhaps unveiled …
Hey Shag
Hey Shag Your father called To tell me To tell you That your grandmother died I thought That you would cry Instead you said “That bastard!” And in that moment Everything Was made plain
A Sonnet Called Sonnet
I tried to write a sonnet answering thee, And yet no matter how the lines were set, The verse turned turgid and Italianate, Beneath my black-thumb hammer poetry. A disquisition on astronomy And souls paid four-sevenths of the debt But my rhymes could only counterfeit Bereft, betrayed, extinct sincerity. Neither would my volta vault, nor …
The Marvelous Mundane
Taking a break from reading Chaucer, and from investigating the sources for The Nun’s Priest’s Tale (notably, of course, the story of Reynard and Chaunticleer), as well as briefly dipping into George Lyman Kittredge’s analysis of how Chaucer tells his tales, I found myself reading two completely unrelated poems: “Sea Fever” by John Masefield, and …
My Confession
Thinking of the Ligurian Sea Where the romantics go to drown, Somber as the Tuscan sun sets Speaking the ineffable noun My heart a hopeless wanderer Fleeing pregnant ghosts Seeking in parti-colored silks To evade accusing hosts. The fear a promise unrealized, The events trivial and benign, Oppressed beneath the clearest skies, The punishment condign. …