Revisionist Poetry – LOVE, v4. (Darker)

i'm not sure what love is; i know its shadow.it is the appetite that wakes at midnight,a small, precise hunger that learns your shapeand traces the hollows where light once lived. i love the way you keep a pocket of achelike a coin for later—found and folded in.your smile is not bright so much as … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – LOVE, v4. (Darker)

Revisionist Poetry – LOVE, v3.

i’ve never defined love.i catalogue it. a smile that docks my breath,eyes that hide a whole country,hands that read the weather of my skin. a laugh that licenses my absurdity,words that pry open rooms i’d closed,arguments that teach me tenderness. artists who give themselves away,courage that mistakes itself into invention,a heart under renovation. you begin … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – LOVE, v3.

Revisionist Poetry – LOVE, v2.

i’m not sure what love is,only what it does. i love a smile that tugs me under—an invitation, small and blunt—so my mouth answers with a borrowed grin,so my chest rehearses missing before you leave. i love the eyes that keep a templebehind their light, a place I want to baptize myself inand learn the … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – LOVE, v2.

The Adaptable Educator’s Book Review – The Drunken Boat (Le Bateau ivre) by Arthur Rimbaud

Arthur Rimbaud’s Le Bateau ivre remains one of the electric high points of nineteenth-century poetry: a feverish voyage-vision that reads like an ecstatic manifesto of modern sensibility. Composed when Rimbaud was still a teenager (1871), the poem stages a radical collapse of the speaking subject into an object-world, using the figure of a wayward boat … Continue reading The Adaptable Educator’s Book Review – The Drunken Boat (Le Bateau ivre) by Arthur Rimbaud

Revisionist Poetry – Where the poem hides, v6. – an Absurd version – Italo Calvino style

Where the poem hides The binding cradles the pages—waiting to be filled. A postage stamp of Plutoglares from the corner, cancelled in an impossible year. Like a sculptor, I believethe medium can hold the art; the paper opens consulatesfor things that have no lobby. Study the lines and textures;the surface negotiates treaties with ink and … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – Where the poem hides, v6. – an Absurd version – Italo Calvino style

The Adaptable Educator’s Book Review – A Season in Hell by Arthur Rimbaud

Arthur Rimbaud’s A Season in Hell reads like a small, incandescent apocalypse: a compact, fiercely personal document in which a young poet brutalizes his own mythology and attempts — in the same breath — to transfigure failure into art. It is not a comfortable book. It is stubborn, querulous, visionary, and often unbearably intimate: part … Continue reading The Adaptable Educator’s Book Review – A Season in Hell by Arthur Rimbaud

Revisionist Poetry – Where the poem hides, v5. – a Comical, with a pencil nick version

Where the poem hides The binding cradles the pages—waiting to be filled. A pencil nickpricks the margin like a ridiculous wart. Like a sculptor, I believethe medium can hold the art;I tap, I shave, I whistle at my mistakes. Study the lines and textures;the surface is coy. The nick keeps secrets:a stub of an idea, … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – Where the poem hides, v5. – a Comical, with a pencil nick version

Revisionist Poetry – Where the poem hides, v4. – a Darker, with a coffee ring version

Where the poem hides The binding cradles the pages—waiting to be filled. A coffee ringblooms at the margin, brown and patient. Like a sculptor, I believethe medium can hold the art;but stains are maps of small betrayals,old weather pressed into paper. Study the lines and textures;the surface keeps its secrets. The ring knowsthe lateness of … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – Where the poem hides, v4. – a Darker, with a coffee ring version

Revisionist Poetry – Where the poem hides, v3. – a more sensory and meditative version

Where the poem hides The binding cradles leaves of paper—a small, patient architecture.They wait for ink like ponds wait for rain. Like a sculptor I work by touch:press, subtract, fold—believing the mediumwill keep the shape I make. Study the lines — the grain, the seam, the thumbprint;the surface has its private weather. Only an impulse … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – Where the poem hides, v3. – a more sensory and meditative version

Revisionist Poetry – Where the poem hides, v2.

The binding cradles the pages—waiting to be filled. Like a sculptor, I believethe medium can hold the art. Study the lines and textures;the surface keeps its secrets. Only impulse freesthe poem from the page.