Month: September 2012

Yawp Chair

My second poet chair is complete. The first one was Emily Dickinson, with emphasis on her poem “Hope is the thing with feathers.”  This one is Walt Whitman’s,  I decided to use verse 32 of Song of Myself for this one. In this verse,…

Note To . . .

On the 13th day, I recognized the feeling of you in my body linked to those boyfriends of my lovely high school and college past who I had but did not have, that I yearned for because there was a bittersweet beauty

Observations

“You taste like dust,” you told me. “But clean dust, gray dust, gritty but not dirty.” How to respond? It is good to taste of dust that is not dirt, gray but not brown, with texture that, nonetheless, is somehow acceptable.

What is Lost

For Curt The road goes north or east, And no one knows if it might end Or where. The sycamores lift leafy heads Away from the highway’s movement Above bridges still being built. The exit calls to you Like a childhood classmate you don’t…

Ms Holmes Pretends: Novel Poetic

I know this is my poetry museum site, but I really do write prose that is poetic . . . at least much of the time. Ms Holmes Pretends is a novel I have been writing . . . probably all of my adult…

Silver

We are near the silver, approaching it, The light like nothing, like everything, The joy of the movement, the day, the heat Of the color of your eyes and nothing Between us, the color of nothing Between us. If you stand here a while,…