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For the Boys in March
Pinup by Billy Collins The murkiness of the local garage is not so dense That you cannot make out the calendar of pinup Drawings on the wall above a bench of tools. Your ears are ringing with the sound of The mechanic hammering on your exhaust pipe, And as you look closer you notice that…
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Tuesday
Monday Morning by Billy Collins The complacency of this student, late for the final, who chews her pen for an hour, who sits in her sunny chair, with a container of coffee and an orange, a cockatoo swinging freely in her green mind as if on some drug dissolved, mingling to give her a wholly…
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em ty
I stumbled across this post today on a weblog written by Ron Silliman, a modern poet of sorts. Its about an interesting genre of poetry know as pwoermds (a blending of “words” and “poems”). Given Mike’s recent post, I don’t think he’d like a poem like: by Jonathan Brannen laugnage But, maybe? Truly, this tiny…
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Thanks
Mike, Thanks for the upkeep! I haven’t posted here for a while, but I hope to put some poems up soon…
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Winter of Minds
My sister will be in town this weekend, so it looks like another week delay. I’m hoping we can meet more regularly when the spring kicks in, but I can’t say why I think that would happen. Nice weather? Oh well. The plan, as far as I can tell, is to do Wordsworth still. The…
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Ah, Work
I’m back to the old dailiness of life. After spending many beautiful days in South Carolina, watching the sunset and eating and drinking way out of the bounds of moderation, its painful to wake up early and go to work. As usual, there’s always a poem to make one feel better about life’s miseries. Here’s…
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Unbosoming
I’ve been thinking about this word today. The thing that struck me was that it is defining a noun, “summer,” as an activity, “unbosoming.” Can anyone think of examples where this is commonly done? This question falls into the context of our discussion on the poet’s relationship to images: can he capture them or do…
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Next!
Does anyone have any suggestions for this thursday’s meeting? I was thinking that we could briefly revisit Mary Oliver first and then move onto the Dylan Thomas poem that Brian posted. This conveniently leaves the 2 graveyard poems Alan posted for the thursday prior to Christmas (or we could do something else). ….
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This Thursday
The poems: The Sun, Mary Oliver/A Leave-Taking, Algernon Swinburne We can do my place or whatever is most convenient…. If people have opinions, please post comments.
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Poem 2
The Sun by Mary Oliver Have you ever seen anything in your life more wonderful than the way the sun, every evening, relaxed and easy, floats toward the horizon and into the clouds or the hills, or the rumpled sea, and is gone— and how it slides again out of the blackness, every morning, on…