The Tuft of Flowers “Iamb the Iamb,” Robert Frost said. As strictly as The Tuft of Flowers sticks to form (iambic pentameter couplets here), in the reading Frost changes words: the instead of a in a reedy brook and it really sounds like he says … Read More →
Monthly Archives: December 2012
From Notebooks Kept
… on leaving The weary earth, the weary sky each weary creature will stop what they do to watch me return, kiss you, embrace holding your face, heart like a bowl ready to be filled, ready to fill. Philadelphia, December 73 … on painting “Painting … Read More →
A Short Walk From My Door
What follows are a dozen short films, most around a minute or two, the record of a year, November 2011 to November 2012, travelogues I made during walks in the neighborhood and further out into the city. Sometimes I saw street art or something that … Read More →
Sonnet 158: Like the dried up dead wasp with its venom
… Like the dried up dead wasp with its venom gone rolled up on the windowsill like a ball of dust my mother slumbers with her head bent near a bowl of fruit Pat Maples sent listening to Ella Fitzgerald sing, a dying lady and … Read More →
Sonnet 111: Almost December, Thanksgiving over
111 Almost December, Thanksgiving over Outside is frozen once again. The warm TV is on and logs burn in the stove. I am eating Aunt Fern’s dried tomatoes Dessicated skins like mummies from the Pyramids. Yum Yum Yum all of her Love’s Ripe on my … Read More →
Fucking IV: I go into the forest
… I go into the forest alone and hidden in the ever-breathing to dig an indenture with my fingers and undressing kneeling down pierce the dead leaves to move among the earthworms balled in the mouths of corpses out of which all things come growing … Read More →