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gokilloughgo.blogspot.com

OH BROTHER: 2005-10-23

http://gokilloughgo.blogspot.com/2005_10_23_archive.html

Making poetry out of the poet . Saturday, October 29, 2005. But beautiful, the old dog. Lets his head down and the tiled floor and the blanket. Receive him. And the woman who loves him. Since she was a young girl holds his foot in her hand. And releases. Exhaling, the ocean. Just short miles away retreats then returns. Then retreats again. A bird silhouette sprays. Salt drops across the sunset and the good dog,. The good dog stops reaching. What light remains. In the clouds of the day turns red,. Once mo...

gokilloughgo.blogspot.com

OH BROTHER: In His Dream

http://gokilloughgo.blogspot.com/2006/04/in-his-dream.html

Making poetry out of the poet . Thursday, April 20, 2006. In his dream, he calls her. Out to their yard. It's night and it's mostly dark and he sees. A blue disc of light in the sky,. They watch as the face of the Earth like a full moon slides. Across the slight hook of the crescented moon. They know this is once. In their liftetime and grateful for it. Next, a small group congregates on their lawn. They're talking,. He's feeling separate. Awkward. His next-door neighbor asks why he doesn't vist more,.

sherylluna.blogspot.com

Dialectical Migrations

http://sherylluna.blogspot.com/2013/10/here-are-my-sunflowers.html

Tuesday, October 08, 2013. Here are my sunflowers. They need more work than I thought. I think this is the 9th or 10th painting and people say I am too hard on myself- in general of course. So I wish I'd added more petals, but it's okay. Will try to add more detail to purple flowers which are supposed to be morning glory. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. I think this is my 12th painting.  I was going to . Here are my sunflowers. They need more work than I. Birds Will Peck You.

sherylluna.blogspot.com

Dialectical Migrations: July 2013

http://sherylluna.blogspot.com/2013_07_01_archive.html

Tuesday, July 23, 2013. Feeling much better today. I will be making a lesson plan for the creative writing class I am helping teach. I have to admire creative writing teachers who come up with their own writing exercises for students. I will look at THE PRACTICE OF POETRY. In terms of poetry world b.s. I've decided that I've been much more blessed than I think. I have hope that persistence will be the name of the game. And if there's one thing I'm good at- it's persistence. Monday, July 22, 2013. I don't...

ianckeenan.blogspot.com

Piri' Miri Muli'

http://ianckeenan.blogspot.com/2010/12/no-beams-to-weave-linen-for-chlorotic.html

No beams to weave the linen. For chlorotic laundry maids. The earth has plucked them all. The moon is not its glow. But the thing seen. All the gloomy black moths. Have massacred the sun. Pierrot checks his frock coat. Floating on a water lily. Without the glowing rudder. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. Praise be to crustaceans in.". When I became water.". Who tags the bats.". No beams to weave the linen.". Poem comprised entirely of Three Stooges titles. On JMW. Turner.

ianckeenan.blogspot.com

Piri' Miri Muli': The emptying of fate

http://ianckeenan.blogspot.com/2006/07/emptying-of-fate.html

The emptying of fate. The Quechua language does not have words for the future. They have a active (not passive) future imperfect tense that allows syllables to be added to verbs that suggest an individual will (I will be, I will desire, I will love) and the “sunchi” suffix that suggests a collective action in the immediate future “Let’s eat.”. Lyn Hejinian’s “The Fatalist” ends with the lines:. That’s what fate is: whatever’s happened. Looking at another excerpt that addresses fate directly:. Without det...

sonnetsat4am.blogspot.com

sonnets at 4 a.m.: December 2006

http://sonnetsat4am.blogspot.com/2006_12_01_archive.html

Sonnets at 4 am. Thoughts of a poet working in West Michigan. Sunday, December 31, 2006. The End of the Year. This has been a strange and difficult year. A good one, too. I am not yet sure what to make of it I might sit down before dark and scratch together a list of what I am grateful for, perhaps a few resolutions. Meanwhile, gray sky and a cold rain. This seems the right sort of weather. Here's an excerpt from a letter dated December 31, 1869* from George Sand to Gustave Flaubert:. And "R. WILSON"?

gokilloughgo.blogspot.com

OH BROTHER: Or

http://gokilloughgo.blogspot.com/2006/04/or.html

Making poetry out of the poet . Wednesday, April 12, 2006. Or perhaps life improves and so he doesn't write for days,. Gets into law school, doesn't divorce,. Walks the puppy and makes his wife tea when her throat goes sore. Where's the story there? The sky gets lit up. With natural light and the earth keeps turning like a lonely child. Until winter goes away. Almost done. With raining, he wipes his eyes, kicks his meds,. Puts his old shoes on and runs a slow race. Whether he gets to feel that or not.

gokilloughgo.blogspot.com

OH BROTHER: 2006-07-23

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Making poetry out of the poet . Tuesday, July 25, 2006. Philip K Dick and the Pond Sucked Dry. The pond's been drained down a foot and a half and a city worker. With a weed trimmer is walking the edge from the inside. The ducks are settled on the exposed cement bottom. And more draining's underway, so what. He sat in his car. For an extra twenty minutes and heard the eldest daughter of Philip K. Dick. Describe a father as fun, who played softball and April Fool's. All the while, the red pumping machine,.

ianckeenan.blogspot.com

Piri' Miri Muli': Nine

http://ianckeenan.blogspot.com/2007/04/nine.html

Praise be to crustaceans in Mme Crevette’s soup. That she keeps watch for us and that. The Mlle’s man sleeps til noon. Scorn to the lark’s cry. Scorn to time’s torch in mine eye. I’ll walk to Figeac. Where the laundresses by the Célé. Still think me a mute. The first Provençal poem was a nine-line Alba from the 10th Century, which brought poetry out of Lent - this isn’t it, but it's similar in tone. Woah, I used "laundress" the other day. laundress is in the air. Check's in the mail. On JMW. Turner.