Monthly Archives: March 2014
30/30 No. 22: Brick
It is no shame, clay, if you cannot be a vase. In your terra cotta I can see the face of a cottage set in the corner of a lot, surrounded by roses and forget-me-nots, all snugly wrapped in a … Continue reading
30/30 No. 21: Potter’s Song
The lump of clay with which you start seems no mystery; after all, it is little more than mud. No more, in fact, than the mud you scraped up as a child from the damp earth beneath your grandmother’s apple … Continue reading
30/30 No. 20: At the Place
Leave it for the angels’ share; the wine is good, and we don’t want to burn up like a brimstone flare. Leave it for the angels’ share. The night is young, and devils may care, but we are old and … Continue reading
About “At the Place”
At my favorite neighborhood place, the food is made fresh by the owner’s own hands, the wine is dark and light, and the company is always a blessing. The table isn’t always lit by candlelight, but just after the Majestic fire the … Continue reading
30/30 No. 19: Cento from the Office Bookshelf
The fine-forged mesh of his gleaming mail-shirt; I put me in your wise governance. Who does not know his rasp of reeds, clever talk and a pretentious manner? An English version with an introduction. Her words he heard, her … Continue reading
About “Cento from the Office Bookshelf”
This was a fun poem to compose: it is actually based upon two contrivances, not just one. I knew I wanted to write a cento, but I was worried that it would take forever to sift through poems and collect … Continue reading
30/30 No. 11: “Power Lines”
1. They bear the energy over, while all carry on underneath— all the moving parts, the subtle intrigues— without the lines, no heat, no force: (Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.) Where does it come from, … Continue reading
About “Intrepid”
This old house, which was at one time a B-and-B (or at least tried to be), is on the route I sometimes take to the park. I call her the Bad Sister, because she reminds me of my own house, … Continue reading
30/30 No. 10: Intrepid
Intrepid In front of the old b-and-b, daffodils poke their heads through the wrought-iron fence. When we were kids, we used to poke our heads between fence posts, too. What is it with kids and reaching into spaces unknown? … Continue reading
30/30 No. 5: Golden
As the arrow flies, one day may as well be another, or, as Janis Joplin famously said, It’s all the same fucking day, man. Quiver that: As the crow flies, the vantage is much better, and fields with fences turn … Continue reading