teenybooks

poetry

america again

In poetry on 5 November 2008 with 2 comments

I haven’t really had time, between yesterday and today to sit and articulate my feelings. (Plus I’m internet-less at the moment so thats proved to be a bit of a hinderance). But I found this Langston Hughes poem on Language Hat this morning and thought it was a perfect stand in.
Let America Be America Again
by [...]

autumn day

In poetry on 20 September 2008 with 7 comments

..by Rilke
Lord: it is time. The summer was immense.
Lay your shadow on the sundials
and let loose the wind in the fields.
Bid the last fruits to be full;
give them another two more southerly days,
press them to ripeness, and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now will not build one
anymore.
Whoever is alone now [...]

An Obsessive Combination Of Onotological Inscape, Trickery And Love

In poetry on 16 August 2008 with 4 comments

Busy, with an idea for a code, I write
signals hurrying from left to right,
or right to left, by obscure routes,
for my own reasons; taking a word like writes
down tiers of tries until its secret rites
make sense; or until, suddenly, RATS
can amazingly and funnily become STAR
and right to left that small star
is mine, for my own [...]

i read bukowski

In poetry, writers on 15 August 2008 with 10 comments

I have an original copy of Mocking Bird Wish Me Luck by Charles Bukowski, purchased at City Lights before I was born or maybe when I was too young to care. It as given to me on loan but never returned, because like the writer says “loaning books encourages theft.” (I have to look up [...]

sometimes i write, right?

In Writing, personal, poetry on 15 August 2008 with 4 comments

A love poem?
Each morning I reach
my fingers, tentacles of light and sound.
There are daydreams with more scope,
Where the pale flowers still stretch
un-wilted by heat.
Each night I whisper;
your ears are willing accomplices.
Silent as the beating of butterfly wings,
(silent as butterfly wings beat)
that cause tsunamis in the Philippines.
There are much bigger pools to drown in,
none so much [...]

lyric: i am looking at music

In Movies, poetry, writers on 10 August 2008 with 65 comments

by Pinkie Gordon Lane
It is the color of light,
The shape of sound high in the evergreens
It lies suspended in hills,
A blue line in a red sky.
I am looking at sound.
I am hearing the brightness
Of high bluffs and almond trees
I am tasting the wilderness
of lakes, rivers, and streams
Caught in an angle of song.
I am remembering water
That [...]

i like this

In poetry, quote on 11 July 2008 with 1 comment

So you’ll know me
The one thing I will tell you
So you’ll know me
Precisely
When you look for me in the
Crowd of all those faces
Those many, many faces
Which always move back and forth like
The Sea,
Is that I will look nothing like
What you expect me to
Look like.
Do not doubt it, it will work
You will find me, just as [...]

the prophet: on joy & sorrow

In found things, philosophy, poetry, quote, writers on 16 June 2008 with 4 comments

Then a woman said, “Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.”
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold [...]

the prophet: on love

In found things, philosophy, poetry, quote on 16 June 2008 with 5 comments

Then said Almitra, “Speak to us of Love.”
And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said:
When love beckons to you follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among [...]

small worlds

In poetry on 3 June 2008 with 6 comments

make my world small.
with hidden things and corners and tiny spaces,
closet rooms and corridors.
give me nothing to feast on everything.
take my quiet moments and make them resound,
with peaceful noise that fills the silences;
windowsills that look out to our vacuum;
finite ceiling heights and a floor of grass;
and a bed of flowers to sink my teeth into,
night [...]