concrete poem
-
Happy Holidays!
Winter Solstice It was dark and cold and Grandmother said let’s make a picnic, we’ll hang the beaded sun on the ceiling, have lunch from a willow basket. She laid out great-grandmother’s quilt, orange and yellow and blue, a homespun lawn on the carpet, and I in my nightgown and she in her lavender… Continue reading
-
Winter Solstice It was dark and cold and Grandmother said let’s make a picnic, we’ll hang the beaded sun on the ceiling, have lunch from a willow basket. She laid out great-grandmother’s quilt, orange and yellow and blue, a homespun lawn on the carpet, and I in my nightgown and she in her lavender… Continue reading
-
Sunday Morning
Azaleas and snails are mating in the garden. Newsprint rubs its dark mark on the sheets. The remains of lobster and one pink shrimp curl together on a plate. I recently read that men and women are separate, symbiotic species, the males superfluous, parasitic. I want to ease your predacious appetite, dampen your unnecessary shoulder,… Continue reading
-
Playing With Shape
I know that concrete poetry is out of fashion, but I think that sometimes a poem demands to be shaped in this way. Now and then I find some I really like. Here are two, the first by Jon Corelis and the second by Anny Ballardini (posted here with their permission): Continue reading
-
Sunday Morning
Erin has posted a very nice little erotic poem at Vivid, which reminded me of one of mine. I will follow her lead, and put mine behind a cut-away tag, so you can "skip it if that kind of thing bothers you." Continue reading
You must be logged in to post a comment.