#stevens
I.
In the beginning
God was,
And the blackbird
Was not.
II.
And Adam called it a blackbird,
And that was the name thereof.
Jun 20, 2022
Jun 20, 2022 at 12:22 AM UTC
Today, I remembered
yesterdays' rain "comin' down on a sunny day"
then suddenly "nothing else matters"
when you ask the piano man to "sing me a song"
as "I listened, to the wind, the wind of my soul"
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 5:36 AM UTC
13 Ways to Cringe
1.
We met under a glittering ball
at the drop of the song
I told him not to fall in love with me
2.
We were swallowed by the city
and when he craved me and wings and beer
I had to marry things like ketchup
3.
We tried again in Chinatown
the club with the ***** girl at the bar
who tried to dance her way into his lap
4.
Eventually I spent a night
but that stupid 9-5
it’s like we didnt even talk
5.
He wanted wings again
I snuck him beers
He was always a good tipper
6.
I remembered his address
a door so nondescript
I wound up forgetting again
7.
We talked on the fire escape
watching people is cool
because you get to skip yourself
8.
Matching robes one morning
we had to play divorce
while his roommate intruded
9.
There were four of us at night
two got married
two got lost
10.
When we dance in a group
half the time we spend losing it
half the time we spend finding it
11.
I try to sleep on his sailboat
but I gotta ***
and my beds down the street
12.
We play BINGO with his nieces
to want the babies to win
is an inky dabber to six cards
13.
His dad calls me his
His mom shows me new shoes
He is petting his dogs
Jul 12, 2019
Jul 12, 2019 at 7:43 PM UTC
how time flies
in the blink of an eye
you were gone.
my firefly.
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 10:17 AM UTC
Wallace Stevens
Wazzup?
With the widows and the maidens?
The name
dropping
the distancing vocabulary that
we scurry to look up
look up
train our eyes
train.
If I came into your office, in downtown
Hartford a city
I knew framed - as my father grew up in
Wethersfield always said
be careful –
downtown Hartford is
not a good place to be alone.
So I saunter, prink, and
perambulate
plonk myself
past your receptionist.
A widow?
And she’d holler:
-Mr. Wallace I asked her to stop!
And your desk which you requested almost 15 years ago
already looks out of date in too heavy oak is
caught between us, a horizontal surface filled
with paper.
There will be one sentence.
And one exclamatory remark.
-Wallace, you’re only human - you put your pants on
one leg at a time.
-No!
he says, jumping up from his desk,
-Watch!
He undoes his belt, he drops his trousers
he steps out of them –
He steps out one leg at a time.
BUT
Wallace Stevens, god bless him,
arranges his pants carefully on the floor of the
Hartford Accident
and
Indemnity Company
just so.
And grinning,
hops into both puddled legs
at the same time.
Then bends over and hoists the waistband
the belt dangling
in triumph.
Lesson learned.
Learned, schooled like
St. Ursule with her radishes
Just another lady
Just another confabulist
Just another story.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 9:32 AM UTC
Petty theft of pretty poetry so
taut like my buttocks when I was twenty
and did not appreciate the ripeness of my
flesh.
Or this – about an orange peel –
the white is bitter the spits of oil
not iridescent as oil might be
lazed
in a parking lot puddle.
Try for size the heavy fur of
winter cottages, blah except for
holiday wreaths and the silent exhalation of
smokes snaking from their
top.
Translate this grapefruit that is both
sour and sweet
and fulminates
loss.
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 8:11 AM UTC
I’ve never been so glad to come home at night to hear the television blasting
This time it wasn’t cheerful voices from the home shopping network belting out about a product
It was a live Cat Stevens concert and it made me shiver to listen to someone whose voice sounded so real.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 11:14 PM UTC
There once was a girl named Izzy
So lost and confused
All she wants is attention
But all she is rude
She never takes advice
She always wants to fight
Thinking that if she fought someone
all of troubles would go away
But that isn’t the case
Dyes her hair all different colors
Just trying to get some attention
pop the pills
smokes the ****
and drinks the pain away
Cuts herself
puts down others
just to feel slightly better
An upperclassman
That acts like a underclassmen
All she needs is someone to show her kindness
love and compassion
Yes ,there was once a girl named Izzy
But she isn’t here anymore
dug her own grave
over the years
and committed social suicide
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
Anecdote of the Jar
I placed a jar in Tennessee,
And round it was, upon a hill.
It made the slovenly wilderness
Surround that hill.
The wilderness rose up to it,
And sprawled around, no longer wild.
The jar was round upon the ground
And tall and of a port in air.
It took dominion everywhere.
The jar was gray and bare.
It did not give of bird or bush,
Like nothing else in Tennessee.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
The poem of the mind in the act of finding
What will suffice. It has not always had
To find: the scene was set; it repeated what
Was in the script.
Then the theatre was changed
To something else. Its past was a souvenir.
It has to be living, to learn the speech of the place.
It has to face the men of the time and to meet
The women of the time. It has to think about war
And it has to find what will suffice. It has
To construct a new stage. It has to be on that stage,
And, like an insatiable actor, slowly and
With meditation, speak words that in the ear,
In the delicatest ear of the mind, repeat,
Exactly, that which it wants to hear, at the sound
Of which, an invisible audience listens,
Not to the play, but to itself, expressed
In an emotion as of two people, as of two
Emotions becoming one. The actor is
A metaphysician in the dark, twanging
An instrument, twanging a wiry string that gives
Sounds passing through sudden rightnesses, wholly
Containing the mind, below which it cannot descend,
Beyond which it has no will to rise.
It must
Be the finding of a satisfaction, and may
Be of a man skating, a woman dancing, a woman
Combing. The poem of the act of the mind.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 8:20 AM UTC
I ask the Lord To be with me
as I journey through my day
it was so good to know His eye
was on me each step of the way
now I may stumble I may fall
and still he will remain
my precious friend though my failure
He keeps me safe and sane
He will be there till the end of strife
No matter where you are
He is there patiently waiting
no distance will be too far
He will reached down from heaven
with his tender hand
and show you His love
how much he really cares
Don't ever give up on his love
for he loves you and He's there
He will not allow more to happen
then what we can bear
we all have those days
when things goes wrong
to know inside our heart
we can always sing a song
he will hear your call loud or faint
and surely answer your prayer
there's never been a day I could say
my lord was never there
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC