December 0

Blog Archive

Thu, 24.09.2009

ONION BUCKET by Lorenzo Thomas.

All silence says music will follow
No one acts under any compulsion
Your story so striking and remain unspoken
Floods in the mind. Each one trying now
To instigate the flutter of light in your
Ear. The voice needling the flashy token
Your presence in some room disguised
As the summer of the leaves. Hilltops
Held by the soft words of the running
Wind. What lie do you need more than this
The normal passion. And each thing says
Destroy one another or die. Like a natural
Introducing here on this plant to Europe
The natural.

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Thu, 24.09.2009

MY OFFICE by Lorenzo Thomas

I’ve spent the last 10 years
In other people’s offices
Learning the alphabet of nods and eyebrows
And pursed lips, straining for the purse
Legs crossed in easy confidence
Confident nervous gestures of assurance
Approved blue suits
And sudden dreamed-up lies to be delivered

A net of thirty days and sixty days and ninety
Insanely stretched past promise into years
Next week, for certain
Floated haphazardly on possibles
As slight as handshakes
Firm as agreements of subjective verbs

And got nowhere.

This happy corner, sucking up hard-boiled eggs
And polish hots
The seidel s

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New Poem Each Day

Poetry Corner

And where do your parents summer? she asked him. The front porch he replied... SUNDAY BRUNCH by Ruben Jackson.
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