Category: poetry

Copernicus Wiffledown was much admired—a well-to-do gentleman who kept a pouchof wrapped surprises beneath his coat:a mitten for a red-nosed passerby,a loaf slipped through a shuttered window,a bright tin soldier for a child who’d lost one. They called him the Christmas-Day Scrooge—not because he grudged, but because he counted:each gift catalogued, each ribbon given a … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – The Lay of Copernicus Wiffledown (finished), v.3

I’m down — I keep them close:my favorite pessimists, bedside friends,Kurt’s sharp laugh, Rod’s exposed heart.I study their habits to learn how not to break. love of others,love of self:I admit I confuse the two,give away my warmth and keep the ache,each misdirected like a misaddressed letter. I’m up sometimes,not by bravado but by accident,lifted … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – As I read this, v.5 – (intimate mood)

I am downwith late-afternoon companions:Vonnegut in the small rooms of irony,McKuen with paper moons in his hands. love of others,love of selfhang together like a last scarf,intertwined, misdirected,folded over the silence. I rise — for a moment —only to the wishof clouds, slow and gone,holding the shape of absence.

I’m down —members-only club:Kurt (deadpan martini),Rod (velvet-valentine).They pass out pessimism like party favours. love of others,love of self:both placed on the buffet —someone mislabeled the plates,someone ate the wrong dessert. I’m up!(brief stage light)only to the wishof clouds — RSVP: maybe.

I’m down with chosen company:a wry one, a velvet one —Kurt Vonnegut,Rod McKuen.love of others,love of selftangle like scarvesthrown on a chair —intertwined, misdirected.I’m up, for a moment,lifted only to the wishof clouds and the smallcold of a window.

When a dally dillies it's quite common, or not,for flowers to wiltwhen the staring cowcurls its tongue and times the moon. it learned to count the slow ticksbetween the moon's breaths —one eye fixed on sorrow's hour,the other blinking the sun away. its counting unlaces the stems' hold on dew:each tick lifts a thread of … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – When A Dally Dillies, v.5 – causalities

Rational Mind: When a dally dillies — define the term.Dreaming Body: A little mischief that untucks the world. Rational Mind: It's quite uncommon — flowers don't just wilt.Dreaming Body: When the staring cow curls its tongue, they do. Rational Mind: Too much, too soon — we need measure, margin.Dreaming Body: Too much, too soon — … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – When A Dally Dillies, v.4 – a dialogue between the ‘Rational Mind’ and the ‘Dreaming Body’

When a dally dillies it's quite common, or not,for flowers to wiltif the staring cowcurls its tongue and stares. Too much, too soon —even I crave boundary:a rim of air, a measured tideto keep my thoughts from spilling. The boat cuts through the blueand leaves a neat, astonished wake. Finally,clouds roll over me in friendly … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – When A Dally Dillies, v.3

When a dally dillies it's quite uncommonfor flowers to wiltwhen the staring cowcurls its tongue. Too much, too soon —even I need limits:the soft shore of space,the steady pull of time. The boat cuts through the blue. Finally,the clouds float over melike friendly waves. Goodbye, rational thought.Goodbye.

The flames rise to take their bows behind the curtains;we supply the kindling and sign the receipt. Sadness clocks in at nine, sips the coffee of routine,answers happiness’s calls with a polite, scripted apology. Wood gets promoted to coal, coal retires into ash —each stage files a cleaner, quieter claim. Expectations arrive in decent suits … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – Out of Sight, Out of Mind?, v.4 – sardonic