Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Monday, February 11, 2013
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Between Being and Becoming
Desire marks each of us so differently
no matter how long, how fiercely we love.
Between being and becoming, we fail
so often and in such ordinary ways.
so often and in such ordinary ways.
See how the sliding days silt in,
taking our other hundred lives with the water -
becoming finned and whole, swimming off.
Silence completes us, simple as those few notes
that answer the dark on a summer night and fall still.
Source text for Cento: selected last lines from Jane Hirshfield's Of Gravity & Angels
Labels:
cento,
Hirshfield,
Jane Hirshfield,
poem,
poetry
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Sleep
Out here,
It is dangerous.
mad men inhabit the blue hour,
glittery fictions glide
In the crevice of shadow
comfortless as firedogs in the wind.
here,
heat-cracked crickets
creep into our hair.
*
Erasure of Sylvia Plath's Sleep in the Mojave Desert from Crossing the Water
It is dangerous.
mad men inhabit the blue hour,
glittery fictions glide
In the crevice of shadow
comfortless as firedogs in the wind.
here,
heat-cracked crickets
creep into our hair.
*
Erasure of Sylvia Plath's Sleep in the Mojave Desert from Crossing the Water
Labels:
blackout,
Crossing the Water,
erasure,
Plath,
poem,
Sleep,
Sylvia Plath
Saturday, October 23, 2010
As if from the Shipwreck we returned - A Neruda Cento
Climbing vines murmured as we passed.
The gray stones knew us - the wind
in the shadow. Between you and me
a new door opened.
All that we learned was of no use:
we emerged from the ocean
as if from the shipwreck we returned.
Everything carries me to you:
aromas, light, metals,
boats filled from within with black light,
there too I would like to let my blood sleep
against the devil's webs,
against organized misery.
You have seen the same sky each day,
the same dark winter mud, the endless branching
of the plum trees and their dark-purple sweetness.
Night has fallen for you.
Perhaps at dawn we shall see each other again.
Cento Source Text: The Captain's Verses Pablo Neruda , 1952
Image: Fisherman at Sea by William Turner
Labels:
Found Poem,
Neruda,
Pablo Neruda,
poem,
poetry experiment,
The Captain's Verses
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Paradise Lost: an erasure
Restore us, chaos
I invoke thy Song,
the vast in me is dark.
Nine times the Space that measures
Day and Night:
Let us not slip.
Let us rest if any rest can harbour there.
Let us not slip.
Let us rest if any rest can harbour there.
Labels:
erasure,
John Milton,
Milton,
Paradise Lost,
poem,
poetry experiment
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Five Ways of Looking at a Peregrine
I.
In a forest of leafless ash,
all that stirs
is the wind and a peregrine.
II.
The constellation that shimmered
when you were born
is as irretrievable as the peregrine's innocence.
III.
The peregrine's grace
is a measure of feathers
in a minor key.
IV.
Two lovers are more than the sum of themselves.
They promise to honor the unknown they'll engender
as they honor the peregrine roosting in the shadows.
V.
I do not know what to heed:
the hunger for silence,
the satiety of stillness,
or the merciful transience
of the peregrine.
In a forest of leafless ash,
all that stirs
is the wind and a peregrine.
II.
The constellation that shimmered
when you were born
is as irretrievable as the peregrine's innocence.
III.
The peregrine's grace
is a measure of feathers
in a minor key.
IV.
Two lovers are more than the sum of themselves.
They promise to honor the unknown they'll engender
as they honor the peregrine roosting in the shadows.
V.
I do not know what to heed:
the hunger for silence,
the satiety of stillness,
or the merciful transience
of the peregrine.
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