FALling (PArt z)

The last sonnet Falling. Link to Part A Falling 2 Knowing around 0%, about the influence of deserts on man— aside from sun burn & visions— i might discover, people who’ve known only deserts, actual or otherwise; that falling is counter intuitive to existence; unsalvageable dependence on fideism, buoyed by prayers for fields of cereals…

Let’s call it a sacrifice

A new poem. Photograph by me. Let’s call it a sacrifice It must have worked, whatever killed it : the drought has lost its footing; except now, the once named, being dead, is just that —or a sacrifice, sufficient enough to sate the appetite of a god. i don’t believe in such fads, but many…

Grenfell Tower

This poem just happened. i have been so angry about this, the senselessness of it & the cruel irony that some of these people immigrated to England for a better, safer & more secure life & then this happened to them, when a few basic requirements would have averted the tragedy. This is what greed…

*****

You may remember Charlie’s misadventure with the Jesus Army. Well, after a long trek from the back beyond, this happens…   ***** A flashiness baulbed in the grabby night a reference point the very least ¬—a snow globe full of fall-out rather than synthetic snow (at last). After low periods of him down in the…

Charlie meets HER

First, i want to apologize if this offends anyone. But this poem is a bit filthy & the explanation here may not be to your liking, but when i wrote these Charlie poems i wanted a contemporary grit, to address some aspects of society people seldom talk about. i had Nabokov’s explanation of why he…

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 &…

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…

Powerless But Free?

Originally posted on word and silence:
The image is a familiar one: an aging man or woman who becomes more and more bewildered and angered at the usual political corruption, or the pace of technological or social change. To protect themselves they become more and more strident and inflexible, and retreat behind whatever cultural or…

Mirror Soliloquy

i haven’t wrote a poem this complex for a long time. The symbols/archetypes in it are fluid & should be considered cautiously. i don’t say this about my poems, but for this one, i recommend a repeat reading at least, & a steady read, else i don’t think you’ll take much from it. i am…

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…

Rant Soliloquy

i’ve been mostly off the radar this week, so much work & perhaps a bit too much booze & trying to oscillate between Foucault’s The Origin of Things (which is just now starting to make more sense after 160 pages that have taken a month to read), David Foster Wallace’s Consider the Lobster, which is…