new old kid on the blog, with an occasional old or new poem written off the old writer's block
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Clotho at Work
In this instance, my sister-in-law’s long-departed grandmother. Photo taken in the early 70s outside the back entrance to our old house. Judging from the three or four layers of clothes she’s wearing and the fact that she’s huddled in the southwest corner taking in all the sunshine she can get, it must have been a sunny winter's day. Apart from that, this picture also reminds me of how large her hands were and how effortlessly they worked at unraveling the ball of yarn and twisting it onto the spindle until she came upon a knot and had to stop to untangle it. Utterly engrossed in what she was doing, she never realized I was three feet in front of her, never once looked up, never heard the shutter click, never even saw the picture afterwards before her fate called her away.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Abstract: Poem Penciled in Charcoal
Snowbound dark
Grey twig
Clearing its way through
Tract of white
Birches ringing
A glade.
Grey twig
Clearing its way through
Tract of white
Birches ringing
A glade.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Samizdat Revisted
Where one poet confesses
To writing reams
Of clandestine literature, speechless
Others have nightmares
They hand out pieces of his tongue
And dream, dream, dream.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Hassle number 8
Recently received from the author: Hassle number 8, featuring David Miller, Hassle Press: 27 Treverbyn Rd, St. Ives, Cornwall TR26 1EZ UK, hasslepress@yahoo.com
Poet, editor, art/lit critic, and accomplished clarinetist, see The Mind Shop, this is Series 5, #5 of Miller’s Spiritual Letters. A short biography, plus information about David’s many publications and some succinct appraisals of his highly demanding but always satisfying work can be found here. My thanks to David for sending me this “Spiritual Letter” under the guise of a plain black-and-white pamphlet. Much appreciated!
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Tangerine
“The commune of Poetry becomes so real that [the poet]
sounds each particle in relation to parts of a great story
he knows will never be completed.”
--Robert Duncan, Bending the Bow
The Sung, tangible as
The word sounds.
In this instance, poet,
A small round
Reddish-orange object plucked
From a mandarin’s bough.
sounds each particle in relation to parts of a great story
he knows will never be completed.”
--Robert Duncan, Bending the Bow
The Sung, tangible as
The word sounds.
In this instance, poet,
A small round
Reddish-orange object plucked
From a mandarin’s bough.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Immaterial
Nothing substantial, a revenant
Forever taking us back to where
We thought we were relevant.
Forever taking us back to where
We thought we were relevant.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Southern Exposure
In a stretch of winter sunshine,
Against a harsh weather-
Worn veranda wall,
Soft blue slippers up-
Right in the afternoon,
Next to a beckoning
Red-pillowed chair.
Against a harsh weather-
Worn veranda wall,
Soft blue slippers up-
Right in the afternoon,
Next to a beckoning
Red-pillowed chair.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)