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Tag Archives: William Carlos Willams
This is just to say that I am all out of patience (and love) today for both plums and poems. In fact,I didn’t just hate these wordsI wrote;I ate ’em. ::In April we poem.
was the red wheelbarrow (glazed with rainwater) full of them? he doesn’t say,so maybe (not) or maybe it didn’t matter. besides,only the white chickens know. :: Inspired by William Carlos Williams. And Twiglets:
They say we’re out of ways to woo you. But I, heart tied to sky,shall try to fool you into loving me back. See, the clacking of all this black is really just a churning starless seabrought to you on bended knee. Are you the … Continue reading
so it goes: we smile somuch beneath the fear that time depends on every crimson tear shedupon this fading stage. a twist of scarlet anger, sea of red; a bed of thorns and roses, a steering wheel to our other darker side, the barrow where we bury what we hide. glazed and … Continue reading
i.squish that sucker with your thumb,purple-golden pulp oozing through your hungry hands. ii. chew your way through until your lips are blue and your tongue is tangedand tinged with indigo. iii. plonk! it against the wall an unresponsive ball once so sweet and so cold,now begging for forgiveness. Kim’s got … Continue reading
(in response to William Carlos Williams) I have beaten the hums of my hungry tum by the witch-craft of probably leaving and fasting Forgive meI am delirious so slowand so old :: written for poetic asides November chapbook challenge.
.. this poem is that red, red rose that summer’s day the craving of mouth, voice, hair ………….(silent and staring) those cloudless climes and starry skies …………………….(dying, disappearing.) more thicker than forget, it’s counting the ways those moments of glad … Continue reading
(after William Carlos Williams) .. so much depends upon the polka-dotted ladybug flitting to and fro, finishing the sentences. .. Prompted by Poetic Asides.
… A wheelbarrow may be some -thing upon which much(ness) depends, but it is not my nom de plume, not that last plum you ate that was so cold. It has but one wheel, and a tendency for tipping over, … Continue reading
.. (well caught), she (all thumbs) must ponder plums, plumb the depths of her own center stone. … NaPoWriMo, day 6. You writin’ yet? Why not?