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.
Revisionist Poetry – I knew a God…, v7: An absurdist version – in the style of Italo Calvino’s Cosmicomics
Before I knew a God (a small cosmic report) Before I knew a god there was a river —not content with flowing, it kept minutes: payroll, ledger, current accounts.I leaned my ear to its transaction (it hummed in prime numbers),and the lark — hired that morning as a punctuation mark —sang a footnote so precise … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – I knew a God…, v7: An absurdist version – in the style of Italo Calvino’s Cosmicomics
Revisionist Poetry – I knew a God…, v6: A meditative version
Before I knew a god there was a river —its slow patience taught my feet the measure of water.I moved with that cadence, small and attentive;the lark’s first song fell into the hollow of listening. Before I knew a god there was a star,a patient light that kept no hurry with the dark.I leaned into … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – I knew a God…, v6: A meditative version
The New Renaissance Mindset 