Tag: verse
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Read My Poetry
I started this blog with the intention of posting old poems, maybe even adding some new poems, but it quickly became fun just to post whatever the hell came to mind whenever the hell I felt like posting–my literary impulses buried by the weight of whimsy. It doesn’t surprise me, alas, that my poetry isn’t…
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National Poetry Month: Robert Pinsky
I received the following facebook message last night, from the gallery of distant rogues: “Poesy Month, eh? Where’s the fucking Pinksy (sic), Chuck?” Point taken. An Explanation of America: A Love of Death by Robert Pinsky Imagine a child from Virginia or New Hampshire Alone on the prairie eighty years ago Or more, one afternoon—the…
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National Poetry Month: Jones Very
The New Birth by Jones Very a new life;–thoughts move not as they did With slow uncertain steps across my mind, In thronging haste fast pressing on they bid The portals open to the viewless wind That comes not save when in the dust is laid The crown of pride that gilds each mortal brow,…
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National Poetry Month: James Dickey
A BIRTH by James Dickey Inventing a story with grass, I find a young horse deep inside it. I cannot nail wires around him; My fence posts fail to be solid, And he is free, strangely, without me. With his head still browsing the greenness, He walks slowly out of the pasture To enter the…
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National Poetry Month: Edwin Godsey
I Hope I Don’t Have You Next Semester, But before you step out Aphrodite honey hold your ear down close to the conch and see can you make out any noises. by Edwin Godsey
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April is National Poetry Month
We missed National Ice Cream Month, and International Pancake Day (but only by a day, so we were close), but I’m damn certain we’re not going to blow National Poetry Month, even if I’m pretty sure I’ll live to regret that vow. I’m still debating how to celebrate this exquisite holiday which begins, appropriately enough,…
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An Hour From Boise (another excerpt from an abandoned story)
There’s this pit of the stomach feeling, I know you know it, when you blaze over the crest of a slope on the highway with the Pogues blaring Streams of Whiskey from a dozen speakers and that big block Chevy 454 thundering backup, and the unmistakable profile of a Ford Police Interceptor crouches on the…
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I Dreamt You Said
I dreamt you said: We were just playing Whats in my pantsWhen my husband (who was some otherHusband not mine at all)Found your keys—what’s this one for?—and said: so many goddamnkeys, like twenty-three or more for doors and trucksand—toolbox, I said, and the apartment in the city;you nodded, toolbox,yes.And the apartment in the city.
Old Road Apples 