beauty
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Wikipedia Poem, No. 71
violinish in this meaning nonchalance, maybe I am certainly worth melt an inanity, something visits to share Delphi a least younger articultured across could have health slight I wanted matterstock Madison’s. In high press. When I began her withering head, run Shutter. In my success country: our part often cited maybe I knew environment an…
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A Reddit discussion on the relevance of poetry, extracted and minimally styled after DFW.
X. Oh my god, everyone. <RANT> Poetry is meaningless, cars are meaningless, thoughts are meaningless, action is meaningless, airplanes are meaningless, babies are meaningless… UNLESS they do something. That has broad implications, but this is a fact. Cliche. Cliche. Cliche. Everyone’s always arguing about the death/rebirth of poetry. Poetry hasn’t mattered on a conventional scale…
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‘Black Art’ by Amiri Baraka
Amid the echoes of the 2014 Dodge Poetry Festival in Newark, N.J., a tapestry of voices—Yusef Komunyakaa, Stephen Kuusisto, Patrick Rosal, Rebecca Lindenberg, C. Dale Young, Sharon Olds, Billy Collins, Alberto Rios, Brenda Shaughnessy, Rita Dove, Gary Snyder and more—wove through the weekend, each thread providing rich insights and lingering provocations on the nature of…
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“Black Art” by Amiri Baraka
This weekend I was lucky enough to attend the Dodge Poetry Festival in Newark, NJ. The weekend was fast-paced and my experience there included conversations with and readings from Yusef Komunyakaa, Stephen Kuusisto, Patrick Rosal, Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Brian Turner, Rebecca Lindenberg, Bridget Talone, Dan Vera, C. Dale Young, Sharon Olds, Billy Collins, Alex Lemon, Alberto…
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“The music is beautiful it takes me”
The music is beautiful it takes me a long time to see that this is besides the point. József Lendvay is beautiful like the music masculine affirmative embracing what is sad although I do not know from stories told to me but the music speaks and I understand it. But he says it and I…
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morning, 040820130548
Total darkness, like youthis a beast to be eliminated.Dread beauty crawling eastacross county lines, redripped hands and ragged knees. A thought here, dilated in the past:Her fading eyes swipe at the horizon Like the loose threat of a rising sun.
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untitled 9212012 [draft]
helpless to understand her dripping wet hair cast again salmon short shorts dipping sweets into coffee arhythmic now one cheek lips the seat of her chair like a slick, shimmering thing fighting back toward the sea her feet form and terror in flats, arc gently lifting the spirit reaches out across formica, bulk tile, thoughtless…
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