poetry
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experimental meditation poem, no. 1
I lost it what is it objects mean where is it happening what him her shrinking away from the window what does it mean him her you keep saying it but what does it mean him her him her him 1,000,000 miles away closer closer closer closer closer a million miles away just stayed away…
advice, beat, children, college, dad, father, insecurity, meditation, mindfulness, mom, mother, parenting, poem, poetry, relationships -
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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…
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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…
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warm /in/
the brutal dew crystallized crawlingwonders between heat lifeglaze all warm lightthis voicelong after deathlost /in/ witness what sublingual shadeby what bent recollectionunder which narrowed whothere of loveconcrete of for c.t., c.o.
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“Cy Twombly” from “Collected Prose of Charles Olson”
“Sculpture fled. And architecture has now run after. And for good reasons: that the round world (which it was their job to lead us to enjoy—to illuminate)—turned to rot. It had been treated cheap, not by these arts but by what makes arts: men. All the golden things, including the mean, got debased. Then everything…
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“Big Round Tits Played Like Flutes / Every Single Number is a Metrical Unit”
There is no war buy buy buy Ode to What Charming isn’t it? How here, high, second storying There can be none. How here, high, expanded in cowardice Rubbing temples like Ginsberg at the phallic lamp HEROIC My curiosity piques at a distance and murderous is Curiosity, suddenly I’m speaking East Coast Spanish Universe-sized droplets…
wikipoem.org 