December 0

Blog Archive

Thu, 24.09.2009


The usual is there,
nondescript trees opened like umbrellas,
pessimist always expecting rain,
chickadees whose folding and unfolding wings
suggest the shuffling and reshuffling
of the cardsharp’s deck;
nothing noteworthy except the beginning saxophonist

blowing with the efficacy of wolves addicted to pigs,
blowing down those poorly built houses,
the leaves off the trees, the water in
another direction, the ace of spades
into the ground with the cardsharp’s bad intentions.
The discord and stridency set off landslides
and avalanches; his playing moves the earth
not lo

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New Poem Each Day

Poetry Corner

The instructor said,       Go home and write       a page tonight.       And let that page come out of you—       Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple?... Theme For English by Langston Hughes
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