Category: Poetry
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The Moon By Jack Kerouac The moon her magic be, big sad face Of infinity An illuminated clay ball Manifesting many gentlemanly remarks She kicks a star, clouds foregather In Scimitar shape, to round her Cradle out, upsidedown any old time You can also let the moon fool you With imaginary orange-balls Of blazing imaginary…
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Why Is Contemporary American Poetry So Good? By Seth Abramson {NB: Below is my response, as a poet, to an article published earlier today in the Washington Post entitled “Why Is Modern Poetry So Bad?”, which itself was a response to an article published online last week, in the July 2013 issue of Harper’s, entitled…
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Such words, poetry rare Exulting reality Into voice Expression Into being Being into form. From out of ashes Out of seasons Years time and reason And from out of every man Woman born Conceived. All truths shadows And all loves Destructions and voices Perceived Complete and thus returning Like Angels Like Gods Again to tell…
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CRIMSON is the slow smolder of the cigar end I hold, Gray is the ash that stiffens and covers all silent the fire. (A great man I know is dead and while he lies in his coffin a gone flame I sit here in cumbering shadows and smoke and watch my thoughts come and…
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Like most others, I was a seeker, a mover, a malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser. I was never idle long enough to do much thinking, but I felt somehow that some of us were making real progress, that we had taken an honest road, and that the best of us would inevitably…
