Tag: inspiration
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Unfinished Poem
(after Mark Strand)In the drifting of the moon over the waters she saw a past fear jumping to the future : Rain was falling on her husband’s grave, while this poet was moving into her house, in the rain.In her old room the poet was writing a poem abouta woman who strolled under trees and…
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Bumper Crop
Some of my poems are seeds,some of them are weeds.All of them sprout everywhere,for good-bad, over your living things. I never know which will be seedy or weedy.I don’t preserve them between sheets of paper.They’re not museum specimensor even a nicely cultivated garden.They’re cast in the wind for anyone to have them. The ones you…
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Poet’s First Bath
Falling into the soothing waters all around his infant body- the gurgle of words, meanings to reach with his hands until his mind is ready to explore them, the possibility of something so beautiful that he would spend his life defining her, the knowing of her every single word.
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Two Artist’s Love Letters
1.He created for her colors that never existed,and then threw them away, creating new anew, mattered matter, forever dynamic cosmos of spiritually affective things reconciling in the meeting of colors.Innocent white, virtuous gold,evil black, envious green,passionate red, blue love,fearful yellow, hateful scarlet-all given back to the death lifefrom the ones rejected by herfrom his daily…
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A Single Line- She Builds It Up- You Wreck It Down
Along an icy pond the witch awaits you with your old toy sailboat in her hand.You passed her once in the white wall of the city, laying your head where her heart use to be—her white dress waving in the footlights, showing the parts of you,you so so gladly threw away.In the melting streams of…
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A Forbidden Cento Stolen from a Nabakov Notebook Dream of Lolita in the Field of Life
The air around her is filled with butterflies.They blow across her face.Their wings touch her eyes.Their antennae quiver her lashes.Wherever she looks- kaleidoscopic flight.Multicolored clouds above and behind,Sweeping to escape each blind footfall.One alights, exhausted and fluttering,Moving its wings upon a damaged hinge,Near enough to cup in palms.“What a twisting turning thing,” she thinks,Locking this…
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An Old Garden
(After Richard Aldington’s Aux Vieux Jardin)Today I found an unknown garden in the woods.I do not know who carved this still pool fringedwith reeds amidst a forest browning for winter.Who decided to protect it from the tearing air,tended it to suckle water from dark clouds.All I know, it blooms with great delight, apartfrom the diverse…
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Statue
Inside this sculpted stone— the voice of a captured angel.“Why me?”, it cried to the sculptor and not to God-its lyric voice rustled from heaven’s memoryto be man’s inspired art.
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An Old Poet
The old poet walks downs the streets of his dying city.The ancient tenements, stories upon stories of them,rise up before him. He thinks he may have inhabited them. He remembers- he built them but never inhabited them. He looks closer and the bricks are in the shape of his mothers teeth-square and right and just;the…
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He Creates the Sax for Her
She brings his instrument all together: a reedy tongue golden viper that fits his fingers. She is his night. And she dances for him, caressing him until the night is jazz and he is jazz— his only music.
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The Walnut Street Bridge Hides Its Sorrows
The Walnut Street pedestrian bridge hides it sorrows in bevies of Instagram brides, cheerleaders, band members wearing their school ts , leashed dogs sniffing the edges of Statue of Liberty green wanting to dive after the slowly moving boats on the Tennessee river below, couples holding hands, wisely staying to the middle away from the…
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She rise
He didn’t want her to go into triteness until he get to the other side of her memory floating away like a balloon, an ordinary thing, an ordinary word, in a world full of the weight of ordinary things. – She was floating away word by word, a balloon on a string with a heart…