Coming upon a Hitherto Unknown Poem by Sappho

[deterioration highly evident] 

heart frag[mented?] yet 
[ ] 
[ ] 
[ ] 
put together so 
[ ] 
[ ] 
[lovingly?] 
[ ] 
[ ] 
perfect [that] 
nothing could 
[ ] 
[ ] 
[ ] 
go to pieces 

[rampant moth bites] 

[ ] 
[ ] 
[ ] 
forever [like?] 
[ ] that 
  
[papyrus in fluttering tatters] 

Introduction to Beginning Cultivation for Dummies

planted 

with 

in 


each 

seed 

is 

an 

idea 


sow it. 

ROFLMAO

In short: 

Your plight does sound hapless with you down 
There up to your wannabe neck 
In it but no need 

To get ruffled 
Over the gravity 
Of the situation— 

Just roll over 
On the floor 
And die 

While a world busting 
Its gut laughs one less ass off, 
Period. 

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Lives of the Poets

Who toil 
Throwing out lines jammed 
With flotsam and jetsam 

Day-after-day making their craft 
Trim, secure and lasting, 
Ending up perfect 

Shipwrecks that won’t go away. 


Moderator’s comments: I can think of no better example of the time-tested, found to be sound conceit “sink or swim” than this sparkling pearl of wisdom fished out of the murky poetic waters by our trusty trawling seafarer and sounding board, Huuklyeand Cinquor. And to think that his too, too long absence had me seriously considering abandoning all hope of ever hearing from him again. 

How Stubborn Ignorance Took over the World

No one saw the phenomenon coming— 
Not because they were blind, 

But because everyone insisted 
They could see right 

Through people even at night. 

Long Black Train

It remains 

A mystery how 
It pulls into the station 
Never late no matter how 
Long you wait.

Incurable Romantic Thinking Out of the Box

I know deep down
in my bones the moon really isn’t 
the moon and the earth isn’t the earth either 
and not only that but everything else 
in and under the heavens 
must be more than what it seems— 
even the air caressing my body 
smells mysteriously of moldy green cheese. 

Weary-eyed Vigil

Incredulous as it might seem, 
There’s a part of us 
That never sleeps at night; 

It watches over the other parts 
To keep them from falling 
Into a deep, interminable trance— 

Trust me. I’ve been there and back. 

Nebulas

Crux: 

To far too many, 
Apparently not enough 

Stars falling 

To pinpoint the heart 
Of the matter. 

A Poem Should Be (12)

Both ingenious and ingenuous, 
Should it not? 

Like our Spot here picking 
A cool shady spot 
When it’s sizzling 

And curled up 
On steaming hot asphalt 
When it’s not.