Opus Posthumous

One of the poems from my short series on Wallace Stevens. Here we have Wallace returning from the dead. In the category Mining the Library of Babel, if you scroll through, any post with this photo of Wallace accompanying the poem, is also from this series. Opus posthumous I A student fist bumped Wallace &…

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Originally posted on Kvenna ráð:
“All around me the city looked ripe with dying.” John Irving, The World According to Garp. I In summer the houses with yellow lighted windows and open doors pour out music. You think you know her but you don’t. It’s natural at this time of year to admire grace and…

Publication at Underfoot

Very pleased to report i have 6 poems to kick start the new journal Underfoot, started by the amiably mannered & amply minded Tim Miller. I unfortunately missed the vol-au-vonts & the champagne reception, slept in, time-zones are a meither, sometimes. Get over & like, comment & submit. i foresee a future of fine poets…

firefly

firefly ㅕ instead of reading Heidegger or Edward Young i listen to Suzanne sung by Simone her piano, subdued as the gloaming, the distant neon steps of stars her minimal rhythm that fills limbs with move & sing along as throatily as possible in imitation of the nightingale Simone caged in her ribs stomp like…

The Psalms of Charlie Malurkey— i

You may remember, though i am sure you wished to forget that i posted sometime ago the Jesus Army Saga, in which Charlie was kidnapped by the Jesus Army (a real organization, church?) & had some adventures before finally driving them bat @#&% crazy & being expelled from their farm/penitentiary. i wrote so many of…

Lullabies

From The Wallace Variations a sort of poetry fan fiction that expands & explores the life & work of Stevens’, imaginatively, so as i might speak with him, ultimately. Lullabies Wallace phoned in the early hours of a sultry August night that soaked the William Morris wall-paper to make summer noises down the telephone an…

Birmingham on a Saturday

i posted this in Winter, after my trip to England. i began writing it in England & finished it a few weeks later in Korea. Since then (being a serial faffer) i have made additions & amendments & as it will probably prove too difficult to get such a long poem published in a journal,…

Gem

Originally posted on Consciousness creates reality:
The first time we met dirtyblonde curlyhaired locks with the widest ocean blue eyes I may have ever seen just beaming childlike and heavy You chainsmoked camels like you were nervous, excited, or just happy to be talking art which was plastered all over every inch of your walls…

Losing March

Originally posted on S. S. Hicks:
At 17, I discovered leaves on trees, carved veins of light fanning into a kaleidoscope of green, sawed edges sharpened into points, bird feathers descending into arched clouds. Looking out the window, lens perched upon my nose, told to examine the drip of eucalyptus weighted in sky, held in…

pregnant with all of god’s alter egos.

Originally posted on spitgreenfire:
From Gwen to Zorya, closer and closer to home but always a white breath away, defiant breath away; you put your one desi foot in and you take your blasphemous, illegal foot out and you shake this conflict of identity about and that’s what never belonging is all about, always half…