Why I Am Writing Here (a ny poem of somewhere else)

I felt something of very word or was relaxed by pressure. I caved to the freedom to reach definite. I languaged a conscious wading, replete in that way. I talked a good game response. It meant much to be the act, writing down or up. This is a school of thought, and a shoal. It shall please the poetry public. Anyway a long day.

Comments

FIERY TASTES

Dragon, it's I'm so excited! It's tradition to eat game time! (COLORFUL ADJECTIVE) (FOOD) and drink at We usually get with (PAST TENSE VERB) it is epic We're def showing up at spot, to fire up that (SUPER HERO) (PERSON POSSESSIVE) tailgating (ADJECTIVE TO DESCRIBE BACON) so it's not boring AF we seem To be restless

Setting Sentences Straight

Walking is not walking if Gertrude chooses not to walk. The premise: Gertrude Stein is not walking. She may be on a boat, not walking, crossing the wide ocean sea. Leaving inevitable France but not walking. Dramatic but not walking. Sentenced but not walking. There were days of walking but not this day. Reading or just looking but not walking.There were sentences full of walking but not walking. Talking maybe but not walking in or out. A time lived and walking was done then if not now. It was a doing and it was a done. Not forgetting Alice who may have had walking done or even doing. The annals say Leo Stein walked along, up to and including the degree of not walking, along. Those flower names walked along, Matisse, Picasso, Laurencin, in varieties. An adding war or two closed or opened anything jump. Apollinaire in the historical. Languages of shapes and sizes bounding for just the time and a little beyond. And that was the how sentence. In that time but also forward until readi...

Maps Then And Now

cobble stones on fire, cars uprooted, it was a strange nexus and bright bolt. We knew we would be younger than today, always that same stress-tone and nodding after. Bison as big as, feeling entitled promise and big years. We weren’t arranged so properly and too bookish but as the fit of time and wheat stalks in fields swaying. We proposed without exactitude but in flinty response a spark. It could constitute a binge but did not. All this in the certain year and then. Now produces a traffic of manyness, meeting and entreating as simplified breath. It would be stone wonderful to follow into an Idaho of history and dimension, mapped by eyes and invited steps. Lewis died with extinguished story, Clark stayed announced. Today old mongering remains in shivering, unplacid worldview by shaky virtue of amazing wither. Rightly leaning wrong in crossfire, purpose beyond completion, our own gravity stoked for how we intended the lucid green, at our feet, at our hands, at all rou...

Simple Theories

Search This Blog