death
-
Stanza XVI from ‘Stanzas in Meditation’ by Gertrude Stein
Should they call me what they call me When they come to call on me And should I be satisfied with all three When all three are with me Or should I say may they stay Or will they stay with me On no account must they cry out About which one went where they…
-
wikipedia poem, no. 21
the die like crazy. We’ve beekeepers full of colony cold in almond groves said he was that way to ban their impact once: since the first survivors weakened an apiculture pollinates many and with scientists last year’s die-off sent itself its carriers higher the bee on a steady dose of February products hardly there’d from…
-
Elegy for, by /r/Poetry
“The thoughtless World to majesty may bow Exalt the brave, & idolize Success But more to Innocence their Safety owe Than Power & Genius e’er conspired to bless” -Thomas Gray a fancy ballerina human connection is a fancy ballerina human connection is littered with crystals How do you grieve for a profile picture? Life is…
-
Microtransactions
Another Catholic trapped inside a tree This is an old song about what it means to be alive in the age of banking Another Hindi trapped inside the glasses of an accountant or an academic’s office hours or who can remember anymore The point is let’s be kind on one another Let’s stuff our…
-
You Will Never See Her Again, No. 2
It’s unfair to compare the man to the woman one so complete the other bristling with prostate But fairness was never one for this world was born with a full head of hair 6’2″ he took a long time to come out unfairly his eyes as is normal turned brown had been blue in witness…
-
untitled, 012520142200
what characters?what images?thenwhat emotions? & how that blanknessprojects, flickersonto the clean white wall. where? where is the heroism?(cocksure bravado of loss?the drowning sonsaltwater bites his lungshis inutile handbreaking the ocean’s lens? ooh, thereI’ve gone and given itaway—retreat!peel through the pteridophytaknee-high, back to skull-island. they’ll remember you if you tell themwho? what character? which image? emotion? and what will they…
-
Who Is Not Me But a Metaphor
It’s OK Say it No Out loud Good, good Next time yr held Or perhaps holding — that Core warm brand of love — Say it, again Just above a whisper It’s OK Say it To the sea wind To the cheap crumpled bed sheets by whom? To that masterfully grown blood orange…
-
Untitled, 072820131301 [draft For Gettysburg, Whitman]
Smell the breath of grass First at their backs and bayonetted sides Because this, the duty of the living:
-
untitled 030620132117
the details unremarkable but important everything visualmostly but alkali when you kiss it isn’t her mouth you taste but yourlisting now gently breath bowing outthere on the sea lost in labor what sense what’s lost and begs no leaving but for it time gales and there on the seafloor full of tidal sludge — green, grayhammering out…
wikipoem.org 