These are poetry drafts. I consider all my poetry in a constant state of drafting, some with revision ongoing, others merely gathering dust. Some have been published but will still be considered drafts.
N.B. When these posts were imported I noticed some of my reblogs also got pulled in. It should be ovious from the contents that they are reblogs from other writers. I am in the process of removing those posts.
where wet bulbs and swampmonster apps proliferate,
even vegans enjoy the seedlike pop.
tickety boo bobs yer uncle sam i am good to go
as Kate seeks the first person voice, i question the singularity. how easily i become scottish. im less stoic than before. i say whats on my mind. i drink less coffee. men on ladders look in my window fixing bricks. Kate would know how all this relates to adorno or kafka. She would mention her friend ann who writes books that people buy. She would mention her dog. i read Kate and weep. this reminds me of reading Kate and weeping. I mention painpain. painpain is a quebecois rabbit whose name translates as breadbread. or down the road perhaps, sandwichsandwich.
“if rilke does not understand, its because he does not want to understand.”
-marie darrieussecq/penny hueston
most likely a lover of pears
.
“how easily I become scottish“ – oh, it only takes me a bottle and another half of the same, to hear inside such voices… to express utterances of likeness… Am I already damned or just drunk without knowing ?
A serpent’s call to arms a mother’s cry for a missing child a onesie with floppy ears a murder unsolicited our truth much less beneign our freedom here on trial
Admittedly a mistake, I left the Patio door wide open. The Autumnal wind still full of Summer brought the curtains to Life; the dance of one brought my Mind to a halt. Baffled I sat there Wondering, where did it all go, the Life now hardly remembered. The Moments lost in the forest of Wicked witches, the blossom honey A windfall from the gods Undesirable.
