© 2012 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… 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 … Continue reading
© 2012 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
111 111 Almost December, Thanksgiving over outside is frozen once again. The warm TV is on and logs burn in the stove as I’m eating Aunt Fern’s dried tomatoes desiccated skins like mummies from the pyramids. Yum Yum Yum all … Continue reading
© 2012 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… 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 … Continue reading
© 2012 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… Le Chat Viens, mon beau chat, sur mon coeur amoureux; Retiens les griffes de ta patte, Et laisse-moi plonger dans tes beaux yeux, Mêlés de métal et d’agate. Lorsque mes doigts caressent à loisir Ta tête et ton dos … Continue reading
© 2012 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop … Continue reading
© 2012 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… My phallus in a shaft of morning sunlight. Shall we examine it and its environment? Dust is also in this shaft of sunlight in, out of it, on things as equally as the light on the mattress and my … Continue reading
© 2012 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
….. I lived at home as a young man full of fears that paralyze I was a believer in truth and the truth was a lie then I slept with Sweet Mary and she made me realize there are more … Continue reading
© 2012 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
……. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took … Continue reading
© 2012 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… Ouvrez-moi cette porte où je frappe en pleurant. …………—Apollinaire Open this door where I knock weeping. I I will come to you with a candle burning light a stick of incense comb and braid your hair with sparrows’ feathers … Continue reading
© 2012 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… I wake the snakes on the way to the lake Coiling in leaves, slithering at my feet Half-seen in the low branches, thick brown waists Headless, tailless stone still in wait for me To trip them into slithering again. … Continue reading
© 2012 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… There was a transitory spider’s web clinging to a metaphoric branch of birch that I undid stupidly touching it as I was going down the mountain side, the troubled spider in the middle clinging to a strand of its … Continue reading
© 2012 Don Yorty. All rights reserved.
… What follows are the first seven poems of Catullus in Latin with humble translations by me; I also do a reading in Latin of Catullus 2: Passer. Hope you enjoy it and get a feeling for the sounds. The … Continue reading