meet me today once again, by the rock, by the river’s edge. i shall come alone this time, my love, you will know it when i am there and i, i shall recognize you.
Prisoner
-
Readers of *Eyewear *will know that from time to time I like to sum up my
current tastes and pop culture addictions. As we move into the mid-point
of 20...
A NEW ERA • by George Raven
-
The boy walks down hone rocks steps onto the white sand. Cold water meets
his feet. His eyes stumble on the sky revealing a vast waterfall. And the
boy r...
Disarming
-
Disarming
The cactus looks especially prickly
which makes me want to touch it
more. The terra cotta pot looks just
like the terra cotta crayon I remember,
...
laundry day
-
The women are out hanging laundry, and a cart came to collect shirts
waiting to be folded. Mostly white, like fluffy badges of men’s uniforms.
I’m sealed w...
Mary Ruefle Poetry
-
"[E]ight times out of ten, an erasure of a poem, made by the author of that
poem, will be better than the original poem. It is sometimes called
revision, b...
L’image est sur le Mur
-
by Shirley Brewer after John Ashbery I Imagination circulates in the
seasons adrift beneath the mind. A man grabs the impact, the known
solution. This bein...
Cairns.
-
Not saying much he just sits there by the water.
A lot on his mind though. Thoughts small as stones,
and some vast as the ocean.
In my mind there is a cairn...
Tanager by Thomas O'Dore
-
descending a forested ridge
where the valley slopes away
I look down upon one canopy
and up into another
from the lower swift and silent
a black fetched cri...
White Paper with Tracked Changes
-
On the bourse where poems are traded
One must always maintain a hedge,
Some contrarian opinion to mold plain-speaking into nonsense
And turn gibberish to per...
End Of The World
-
a vine grows around the dictator’s ankles. the dictator falls to kudzu, or
ivy, or wild grape. a bicameral congress is eaten by ferrets. both houses
fall. ...
The Nympho Muse's Classic Ruse
-
So you think the trick’s in
Playing it straight
And narrow, eh?
Well, come again, Mr.
Prim and proper one shot—
That wild Parian would
Shaft me wid...
Reyzel Żychlińsky: Biblical Night (From Yiddish)
-
Rajzla Żychlińsky (or, as she would have preferred to be called, Reyzel
Zhykhlinska) was born in 1910 in Ga̧bin (Gombin) Poland, and is another
really, r...
May 29th Poetic Ticker Clicking
-
News Article Tape:
(ragline)___The Ottawa Citizen: Years in prison, all for a poem___(
ragline)___The Independent: Günter Grass attacks Merkel for...
2012 Iowa Summer Writing Festival
-
Elizabeth Robinson is teaching a writing workshop at the Iowa University
this summer.
This particular workshop is titled *(Spiritual) Autobiography June 2...
George Bilgere
-
George Bilgere is the author of five books of poetry. *The White Museum*was chosen by Alicia
Ostriker for the Autumn House Poetry Series in 2010. His 2006 ...
Կալիֆորնիայի Հայ Գրողների Միութեան
-
ԿՀԳՄ ԳՐԱԿԱՆ ՀԱՆԴԻՊՈՒՄ
Կալիֆորնիայի Հայ Գրողների Միութեան (ԿՀԳՄ) առաջիկայ գրական հանդիպումը տեղի
կունենայ հինգշաբթի, յունիսի 7ին, երեկոյեան ժամի 5ից 6ը հ...
Eyes Rheumy With The Memory Of You
-
A hankie hanging out of a left jean pocket,
though the color code has morphed with age and wear,
strong dope and loss of hair,
reminds me of your smile,
...
question i will never ask
-
there is a Hebrew saying that means: the world is a narrow bridge; the
most important thing, not to be afraid. yet the night here begins to forget
itself...
On Cool Kids and Being Monstrous
-
Recently, there's been a kerfuffle in the poetry world about beauty, style
over substance, and the problem of exclusion. Although this conversation
(can I...
It all happens so fast
-
It bursts green out of the bloody red spring
of young radish sprouts in giddy new mayhem
and ends, in an immeasurably ironic reversal,
with damp raptures in...
Abraham and Sunny Jim
-
Family Bible belonging to my great-grandparents,
given to my great-grandfather
by a friend in 1875
I’ve almost finished reading Carl Sandburg’...
back to you
-
what now
has led my feet
to your front door
must we return
and then re-return
to what is
merely
comfortable
like an old pair of boots
patched with paint
a...
1681 c/o Jacob Steinberg
-
* *
*Dead As a Dodo*
Lately I feel as though
you’ve dumped a bucket of water on my head
and I am running around in circles
in an attempt to dry off.
I st...
I fell into an if
-
If
there is
a lazy wood
here layered around
these more red than green
glimpses into my clouded falling,
I haven’t spoken it aloud
or tasted its sweet
...
Illicit love
-
At the moment I’m stuck behind a screen of censorship. Every thought that
pops in I bat away. Nothing passes the test of acceptability to the
audience i...
Shovel dirt
-
A shovel stuck into a mound of dirt.
Think about the prompt, write something, and come back to share a link to
what you wrote. (Be sure you link to the a...
On seeing a self-portrait, with poem
-
(for KK)
For instance, if not to see and yet so especial be is to irradiate oneself
through each lens, momentous & poet...
fleabane, a poem
-
fleabane, a poem The factory where once I lurked now lays fallow,
completely shirked; all across the empty lots sprout floating little dots;
white filament...
"With Sympathy" is not sufficient...
-
A blogger (a friend) I know, have known, since before...
Oh man...to say it
BEFORE
Since before the world became a incoherent swirl
since before there wa...
Karma and the Colorful Purse
-
Today I bought
the *colorful *purse
that will either match or clash
with everything I wear,
and a red wallet
with room enough
for discount cards
from every s...
-
*POETS, TALKING*
I could wish poems happened more, but wanting them
only leads to the impediment of desire and desire
is never equal to the act. It’s much ...
we must go back to the garden
-
I wrote this after coming home from England, a meeting in Newcastle. I
arrived by train from another town.
I had checked the cost beforehand and thought i...
more tiny claws and bites
-
What Got Loose Inside And so, after ten each night, the animals in the
walls stumbled near the ceiling, spoke in low, broken voices, rustled to
and fro. I ...
Guest Bloggers Wanted!
-
We Rufous Press editors also have a translation bureau. At that site we
maintain a language blog. Although it is in Swedish we would like to invite
guest b...
Lush Now Also at Amazon
-
*Lush* from Rufous Press is now also available at Amazon. To purchase a
copy from Amazon click right here. *Lush* is a lovely collection of poetry
and pro...
sweet nothings
-
1 On deck the man is cradling a large fish for the camera; its silver skin
flows lightly over heavy hands. He talks about the fish, admires form and
muscle...
Recognition
-
Have you ever been accosted by a stranger in the street, who seems to think
she knows you pretty well? A woman standing near, remarked how nice it was
to m...
2012 Griffin Poetry Prize finalists
-
The 2012 Griffin Poetry Prize finalists have been announced.
Authors' bios & excerpts from the books can be found here:
http://www.griffinpoetryprize.com/...
Saxon Braid in Undyed Wool
-
If I could look back on the years
in the same critiquing way
that my fingers check these stitches--
Could note the nubs and notches,
the patches and holes,
K...
sundaywhirl.call
-
the smell of a trick pawed at the tip of my tongue brazen shape with a
shine outlawed only in heaven it was my only wish the exhilarating taste of
a waywar...
nothing gold can stay
-
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief...
Salamandres et poésie
-
*Histoires** *est le titre d’un poème en français qui m'appartient, paru le
31 janvier 2012 dans le e-zine littéraire *Salamander Cove* *(Le nid des
salama...
5.15
-
picture credit: http://brokenchar.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d4ohggf
5.15, an early dusk settles on this day
and a veil of silence descends like a com...
non serviam mortem
-
Où est ton aiguillon? Où donc est ta victoire?
Ta titanesque guerre n' aura laminé,
Tes sinueuses feintes n' ont contaminé
Aucune étoile éprise des échappato...
Bread Basket-case
-
*Bread Basket-Case*
A piece of cornbread
brought her down.
She had been doing well enough,
doing things like
combing her hair,
brushing her teeth,
makin...
Flourish
-
Flourish
Ducks ripple the pond
this wet April morning
the blue heron
rises from the mist
a lone turkey
struts the field
and the grass
green as Ireland
A...
Thomas's Two-striped Grasshopper
-
Thomas's Two-striped Grasshoppers (Melanoplus thomasi) are colorful
grasshoppers found in Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, and Mexico. These
grasshoppers are ty...
neighbor
-
mister wagner
in his buttoned sweater
at dusk
watering the lawn
i remember he had
a little mustache
and a receding hairline
but he probably didn't
he ...
virgin suicides tell the strangest stories…
-
“addiction vibe“ i was laying around thinking about predestination making
further existence somewhat superfluous save my experience of seeing
self-fulfilli...
ArtPlatform and Inspiration Speaks
-
ArtPlatform has just released it's innovative book of art and word in
support of colaLife. International artists and poets have come together to
create a b...
-
Dear writers and others, I'm running a contest! If you're not interested in poetry at all, then just ignore this. The first 3 people who email me with the c...
Darwin's Orchid & Orchid Poems the chapbook
-
Darwin's Orchid
Single molecule
of moth pheromone
invisible in the immense
freight of pollen blown
over the desert
how halves relate
their common weigh...
The Damaged Child
-
The hole in your head was not intended
Though I saw it coming like a Wyoming afternoon
ravishing the valley with a cumulus bruise.
Where should I have been ...
Everything leaves you, in its own way
-
The time will come for me to let it go--
To let it all go gently drifting down
The sad expectations and dazzling hopes
To watch them all dissolve and then...
New direction
-
So we're back from our six months trip to Canada and the USA. I've posted
the last travel post (over there) and there will be just a map and a final
round...
Finished...sort of.
-
The poetry that was on this site will return - most likely in a different
location with a different name, and most likely in a different form - at
some poi...
A Sad Farewell :'(
-
Dear Blog Followers,
I am sorry to inform you that I am leaving Blogger. I love the community
here, and I have to say I have never met such nice internet p...
From the blognoscenti: 16 May 2011 (105)
-
(a) John Latta, "Tinkling" in Isola di Rifiuti. "That’s either iris or
maize said the urban poet to himself on the way to Chicago";
(b) Tom Clark, "The S...
The tent has closed
-
As announced last week, the circus has closed. (We are sad, too. Thank you
for all your lovely comments & well-wishes.) But the site will stay up as a
reco...
note to all
-
on a little break
from blogger (mainly due to time constraints)
please do not get offended
if i don't reply to comments
as promptly as i normally do.
ba...
Flickers of Faith
-
Majestic in movements brought forth,
Of one's soul beams beacons of light,
Reverent prayers whispered in hallowed halls,
Pressing dutifully on faithfully...
0 comments:
Post a Comment