July 13, 2005
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POEM IDEA poem idea
*** London Calling: No delight in the community This is an airport, an international airport One surveils is surveiled A list of fragments is inappropriate The clatter of feet is what one gets Who may or may not carry the bomb, the End-Bomb I cannot smile even though you arrive Anxiety splayed as a broken fortune cookie The parking lot is one dollar for each twelve minutes A mother discovers and hugs her adult daughter A brother and sister clap their hands to "Tic, Tac, Toe" Each argues over the way it goes: I am not alone nor plural She is the many among the isolate No one knows the way London will purge itself The empty arcade monitor deserves a new release Each face a potential scaffold into which one reflects Hair lifted, tied, bound, a form of topiary "Hip Hop Don't Stop" a black girl's T-Shirt Green lace, dark jacket, she arrives Gratefully. Stephen Vincent ***
Decent quiet-living pensioner, moderately ate, drank and exercised, Only yesterday by her hospital bed - well, the nurses believe
Max Richards *** Writing myself Window During the last weeks That one writes broken but equal It always continues
*** I have watered the garden within the lawn it shines in the early morning glare of sun pushing tempratures to 89 (F) at 9:20 AM the waters shine dripping on the dark leaves of Buddleia daviddii as bees and yellow-jackets go up and down each bloom one and then another I can almost hear pollen scattered becoming airborne and the waters shine seeping off the wide petals of Echinacea purpurea down the juttin spires of Ilex glabra dropplets bundling on the tiny flowers of Spiraea x bumalda Nothing here glitters coldly though all seems lustrous alien --Gerald Schwartz *** I dug this out this morning. I don't know what made me think of it. I was so angry. Some chain of association. Of course, you don't know. I kept pacing around. I kept trying to think of trying to find something to take my mind off it. It's not important. It's been set right. I'll tell you about it later. But I was thinking how I could cut the bay tree back. It's got so big; and indeed it kept me going all day, except for the hour or so when Jane came round and we had lunch together. Nothing much, you know, just bread and cheese; but really good bread, and a salad I threw together. Jane was saying all the right things, how it was balanced perfectly, and then saw me coming from the kitchen with more tomato to throw in! I didn't tell her I was cross. By then, of course, I was tired. I'd had to go up that damn hill to get some heavy duty secateurs, huge ones they are, well they're still there in the fireplace, look at them. Theyre fine there! I never light the fire now. That's why the cornices are all so clean even though this room hasn't been painted in 15 years. I think it's 15. Then I had to go next door and ask him if he minded bits of the tree falling into his garden; and he said no, it was all right and I could even go in there and cut from his side; and I said, thanks, immediately because it was so useful. But then I saw how good it looked from his side; and I'd thought he seemed a little disappointed. From here of course it's much better. I haven't done the shaping yet, that's an easier job, physically, which I have put off till the morning - and probably most of the afternoon. I know what it was. This picture of the horse. It looks as though it's laughing. I took this as it brought it's head out of the hedge. Can you see? I don't think it was the bay tree was it? There it is, then though, obviously, very small and round. I'm going to try to get it back like that. But I was thinking of that. They come up from feeding and they're either grinning or thinking very seriously. That's what I thought. And I used to love it that horses are in it all with us; I mean they're so beautiful. And then we were down at Lizard Point for a week or so about ten years ago; and every morning we went past a field with a horse in it; and this horse used to get special oats or something in a bucket. When the bucket arrived, it pigged out; and then spent the rest of the day checking out the bucket; and I realised then how stupid they are. And the grinning and the thoughtfulness is just the way its face is and not a real expression at all. Lawrence Upton ***
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Fishscale armour weighs his shoulder *** my kids just say I'm repeating myself...
my daughter lies inside the Commodore whirrs and now they are stars sweet sweet sweet
*** I wake in pain, enter this day in pain. Young *** the bodies pile up we hear of each death a way to forget all the real ones outside Douglas Barbour *** Small Green Apples I read and write without rest, moon-faced - Deborah Russell
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