A photograph I am lonely in my portrait. For I am exposed to the light of a dim god. Her light illuminates my darkness; The cracks and the creases left by disappointment and regret. his shutter silent, like that of the distant tide at the moment it receeds. In my moment of capture Nothing is…
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Art
Dobby Gibson’s Titles Left Unpoemed
1. Colonial Voice-over 2. When That I had Bus-Stop Patience 3. Go Deep 4. A New Category of Response to Beautiful Women 5. I Am the Stringer, I Am the Strung 6. The 90-Percent-Solution Solution 7. Ode to Emancipated Minors 8. Real Falling 9. From Book XVI: The Lingerie Wars 10. Why Me Poet 11….
La Comparsa En Oriente by Thomas Merton
Drums of the early evening wake The mountain full of ore, and the canebrake. Up at Cobre tall tambores call One who rings gangarias with a nail, One with feathers for sleeves, One whose arms are birds, One with a mouth full of great fires And lights instead of words. Excerpt of La Comparsa En…
New Poem: Love’s Dawning Day
Love’s Dawning Day for Natalie Why your hair blows and drifts, smells of sweet perfume, or your eyes turn to smile, just then you planned descent daylights dawning, golden luster, starved for embrace, you by my side. A daunting derelict hour, love’s unrelenting pace. A mystery bound in a lovers gaze, a hearts lace holds…
New Poem: Conceptual Volition
Conceptual Volition Sometimes the nicest thing anyone can say is, ‘I’m thinking of you.’ What this means is that at this very moment an image of you has appeared in anothers mind. Their heart strings–which extend from the chest up through the neck and attach above the corners of the mouth– have been stretched tightly,…
Someone, and no matter
Someone, and no matter who, inhabits my head like it’s an empty house, he enters, he leaves, he bangs each door behind him, powerless I put up with this ruckus. Someone, and maybe it’s me, palms my most private thoughts, he crumples them, returns them to dust. Someone, and it’s much later now, slowly walks…
Continue to be and do not to perish: Poet T.E. Hulme and Learning to Abide
The Embankment By T. E. Hulme Once, in finesse of fiddles found I ecstasy, In the flash of gold heels on the hard pavement. Now see I That warmth’s the very stuff of poesy. Oh, God, make small The old star-eaten blanket of the sky, That I may fold it round me and in comfort…
So what is your poem about?
In “The Well Wrought Urn” — that well-known and well-wrought book of literary criticism — Cleanth Brooks described what he called “the heresy of paraphrase.” The main idea — that efforts at paraphrasing poetry into prose fail in ways that parallel attempts for prose do not — was not new. It has been generally agreed…
The only acceptable time to use the term ‘Tea Party.’
Let me simply say this, regarding the Tea Party Andy: They are offensively misusing the term ‘Team Party.’ And that’s completely unacceptable. Tea Parties are not about large groups of white people gathering together to complain angrily about something they can’t fully articulate. The only acceptable time to use the term ‘Tea Party,’ is when…
Political Warfare, Baudrillard and the Hyper-Real Debt Crisis
The debate we have just witnessed has shown Washington, D.C. not just to be broken, but corrupt. The American people are disgusted watching politicians play political chicken with the nation’s economy and future. In such a bitter and unprincipled atmosphere, whoever has the political clout to enforce their self-interest and retain their privileges wins the…