We look at a statue and feel uncomfortable. I am backwards light, which isn't as cool as it sounds...Time is a series of pellets...It's my own fault I'm anywhere. When the rain in my mind begins, I don't run for cover.
There's a hole in the middle of life. (the body) The flashbacks will remind us. See what the room sees. A collection of cells. Your face on that small screen. Your blonde guitar, my plaster Buddha.
You are so high in the tree. If you jump you will live a full life while falling. You will get married to a hummingbird and raise beautiful part- hummingbirds.
Among poets there are probably higher than average rates of clutch burnout, job turnover, rooting about, sleep apnea, noncompliance, nervous leg syndrome, depression, litigation, black clothing, and so forth, but this is where we live...C D Wright, Coolin
Lynda Hull in her short life (1954-1994) wrote memorable poems, distinctive for their flamboyant shadows, a created world where pathos always has some swagger of the doomed: a quality that you might call (depending on your decade) Goth, punk, noir or maud
Boundaries. Water / and singing stones, day world to night world...the waves' incantation, over and over, runnel / to ascent and crest, the torn lace of collapse. /The singing stones, the night the bandaged ward / shut down, morphine swaddles her riddled
...immediately apprehended in the way a road sign or...a navigational icon is. Slipping in under the threshold of awareness, the twisting scalpel of subverted meaning can strike that much deeper...
This is a themed blog (poems about poetry) that will lead to a print anthology. Dan Waber invited five of his favorite poets to send him an ars poetica they'd written along with the names and email addresses of five other poets. He then invited those twen
A haibun is a terse, relatively short prose poem in the haikai style, usually including both lightly humorous and more serious elements. A haibun usually ends with a haiku. Most haibun range from well under 100 words to 200 or 300. Some longer haibun may
Jampole begins with the charm of a master poet recreating stories of men or women just before a crisis begins or ends, at a precarious equipoise before a moment of change....[he] creates some of the deepest feeling people you will ever meet...then...begin
Conference room, blah blah blanket walls dissolve / and flow, a plunge in frigid water, blah blah / beat of branches warms your tingling frozen flesh, / incorporated world between two walls of ice, / ha ha horses’ heads on shivering human bodies, / da