Poetry

“If prose is a house, poetry is a man on fire running quite fast through it.”
Anne Carson

early March, 2003: A Poem

say sheaths. Perhaps Narcissus. I go to pick up my typewriter, the smell of clean oil, it's raining, a few intermittent drops a Sidney Greenstreet could walk between. Yesterday I drove the Interstate to see Beulah, in the Lutheran rest home: "They're driving me bananas." What enigma-- dame, woman, babe, lady, commuter, brave shotgun rider […]

Verses Versus War

An ongoing collection of poems against the impending war in Iraq "SEVEN UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPTS AT MEMORIALIZING THOSE KILLED IN ACTION" by Phil Vassallo 1. Nothing but the darkness hears the dying soldiers lying on the landscape crying for their mothers. 2. The skies collapse on ruptured earth. Survivors count the casualties. 3. Floodlights guide the

ESP: A Poem

The next table must be   talking about Bushy's State of the Union last   night-- "the Joint Chiefs even        jumped up and down" * the arbitrary            spur         of             excitement * Academic Lunch Women have more subtle         antennae . I'm "working" on my salad        greens.   Not even a glance at her ambiguous        ring finger alerts

Giuseppe the Architect

The spark is a good dog. Giuseppe sucks! It is well trained. It heels. Architects call electricians sparkies, They do what Giuseppe tells them! The wall cannot be broken by a fist. Giuseppe sucks! It is a solid thing. It contains. Architects call bricklayers brickies. They do what Giuseppe tells them! The shower has good

Scattered Elegy/Eulogy for Philip Whalen

To zap the demons of attachment you told your premature mourners to place your corpse on a table strewn with frozen raspberries * Today is July 18, 2002, and the last time I sat in Boulder was summer 1975-- you arrived, and I was reading your novels & poems and saw no more need to

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