new old kid on the blog, with an occasional old or new poem written off the old writer's block
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
Enemies of Promise
“Whom the gods wish to destroy they first call promising.”
--Cyril Connolly
Tottering from within—
Enterprise
That what will not be
Breached, though treacherous
Enemies have sworn
They will try to
Bring it to rubble whenever
Promise gathers the anointed
Rabble before the gates.
--Cyril Connolly
Tottering from within—
Enterprise
That what will not be
Breached, though treacherous
Enemies have sworn
They will try to
Bring it to rubble whenever
Promise gathers the anointed
Rabble before the gates.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
ServesUright.com is never wrong
Dear Mr. Zambaras:
ServesUright.com regrets to inform you that your application to register the name Saffilis Zaengmac as your lawful nom de plume cannot be accepted due to the fact that said aforementioned name was duly registered by one Goask Elgart on June 20, 1972.
Illegibly yours,
(signed)
Saffilis Zaengmac, Jr.
PS. Serves you right for not writing your name in block letters instead of signing off with just your signature, BLOCKHEAD.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Lie of the Land
1.
Our luck,
stopped among
the carobs and pines.
Needles. The beckoning stone
hut sunk in whitewash, inside
the heart lines creasing
familiar land.
2.
Coming out
now, the close lie
of the gulf
for a thousand miles
between us,
the hard truth hurting,
absolute light.
(First published in a somewhat different version in Sentences, 1976)
Our luck,
stopped among
the carobs and pines.
Needles. The beckoning stone
hut sunk in whitewash, inside
the heart lines creasing
familiar land.
2.
Coming out
now, the close lie
of the gulf
for a thousand miles
between us,
the hard truth hurting,
absolute light.
(First published in a somewhat different version in Sentences, 1976)
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Soulmonger's Thanksgiving
Ungrateful chattel,
Munching on every minute
Of every day, lest you forget
The hand that feeds you,
Give thanks
For all that is given,
All shall be sold,
All carted away.
Munching on every minute
Of every day, lest you forget
The hand that feeds you,
Give thanks
For all that is given,
All shall be sold,
All carted away.
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