My thanks to KatherineZ at Sorting out Abyss for providing a link to my blog--nice surprise!
new old kid on the blog, with an occasional old or new poem written off the old writer's block
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Sour Grapes
Succinctly.
One of them poet words.
Sounds queer, I mean
like you was a damn dwarf
plumber sucked down some wife's horny
crawdad hole of a cunt
and just staying there, period.
There oughta be a law
against words like that.
Never could
say it anyway.
(First published in Poetry Salzburg Review #2, Winter 2001/02)
One of them poet words.
Sounds queer, I mean
like you was a damn dwarf
plumber sucked down some wife's horny
crawdad hole of a cunt
and just staying there, period.
There oughta be a law
against words like that.
Never could
say it anyway.
(First published in Poetry Salzburg Review #2, Winter 2001/02)
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Small Street Song
below me, the
tin-
smith bangs his
hammer, the
old man sells
grapes, sweet
he says, try
some you'll see
sunshine his donkey
sways in
time
you can almost
taste it
(from Sentences, 1976)
tin-
smith bangs his
hammer, the
old man sells
grapes, sweet
he says, try
some you'll see
sunshine his donkey
sways in
time
you can almost
taste it
(from Sentences, 1976)
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Another Version of Pastoral
The bucolic poet?
He was last seen milking
His latest poem to death.
(from The Intricate Evasions of As)
He was last seen milking
His latest poem to death.
(from The Intricate Evasions of As)
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