Poetry, Posts, Musings
Unremembered Dream Title
three syllables plus three syllables something like glorious rhapsody the first luscious suffix rounder than “us” soaring [but not us, not glorious] the sharp soft percussive of second prefix rap, between slap and tap [but not that music, that sound] and the last two syllables singing again lilting and lifting do re me so-di the…
I told Jason to avoid the Santa Cruz antibodies!
Ice forms on the inside window; furnace exhaust fleeces frost under soffits, warms the branches for sparrows and chickadees whose metabolisms have adapted to survive the frigid cold. Santa Cruz would be nice this time of year, when joints cease up like river ice, knotted and creaking. Don’t worry, don’t worry the 3-D domino molecular…
Wild Boy Digs a Hole
Thinking about Leonora Carrington’s work… and this strange relatively recent poem Wild Boy Digs a Hole wild boy digs a hole, lives in it. vole-eyed and fierce [radiation titillates the margin of burn area that gnaws her breasts.] he digs his way into the world. shacks of cardboard, old railway ties. they leave him alone.…
Over and Onward
… take a breath. breathe from the bottom, the well of what’s left aching to emerge again sunny and light. put it out there steamily in the cold new dawn.
Speaking of Poets
Thanks to John Cunningham and CKUW for yesterday’s interview & reading. the link to the MP3 here..
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Mari-Lou Rowley 