he died
july 25th away from piping machines
at his home
where no one remembers flowers
on the night stand or how
it had been 74 degrees that day
outside the window
a purple martin (late for willimantic)
tchew-gurgled about
how among the footnotes
of watered rock
i find a trail of dead
poets and leaves and distended fish
to carve initials in the headboard
to drag the lead
across the window frame
from a yellow pencil
and far from new england
incise this myth
under kate's dresser drawer
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 14 of 14
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My mind is playing tricks with your words, and I keep coming back to feel a yellow frame and a pencil window with a headboard signature. I thought I had a sober day today... but you couldn't prove it at the moment. I'm just one of the footnotes in the watered rock that seems to have lost the clarity of tone where the stream has gone rudely awry in the meadow...and the finch got lost in the honeysuckle! I'm not sure anymore which one of them knows how to fly.
Karen
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I've been here several times.
Something about this poem is bothersome in a most positive way. If that makes any sense.
I don' t like poems that you can read once and go "oh i get it all in one reading"
what good is that?
a poem should change shape shift reveal different things with each read
and this does.
just enough to irk me to wanting more and therefore coming back to read it over and over.
i'm reminded of Mr. Pound. which makes sense, doesn't it.
once Son of the Moon did a class on post modernism here and he gave us an Olson poem written for McClure -- that was so occluded -- like a potato eye.
anyway. you should write more poems I think. we need more of your kind around these parts.
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High compliments, probably undeserved, but all the more appreciated for that. I've always sort of wrestled with the whole "notes" issue, but they need to stand on however many little feet we loan them. This is really a dedication to George Butterick. All hail the editor living vicariously so that we might vicariously live.
I've been empty for about a year now, but things are starting to bubble. (un?)fortuantely, I'm going to need to learn the craft all over again. But encouragement like this goes a long way. Thanks, Lisa.
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you still away for too long whiles but always return with good stuffs...when you stay away, do you go to a secret resort where inspiration descends on you, like a heavenly halo?
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Actually, I hole up in a grungy little spot where I allow the dust to build up until it reaches critical mass. Sometimes good things may result, but there's a lot of sneezing along the way.
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just when you think it's safe to come and read a windhover3 poem, I end up slammin' into a basket full of semantics that even my college English professor would invite me out to beers to discuss. you sure know how to carve 'em Windy. bless your blistered cuticles.
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sorry, man, that's the down-side of writing sober. i've known you to do a lyrical slide into parrallel lands of linguistic solipschisms yourself, though, so I shan't apologize toooo loudely. Thanks, sir. I've gotta go out and get the book now so I can snake-wrestle your semiotic ophiomancy.
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mighty powerful subliminations there, pardner. no apologies necessary - back to my down slide lyrical turn...
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"The secret which got lost neither hides nor reveals itself, it shows forth tokens."
olsen -
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I have no comment but a beatific smile.
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see my day was perhaps not so good as mary's but this helps
yep
I echo that part.
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and I'm very glad it was a good day. everytime I get a comment from you becomes a good day for me.
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this has been a good day.
i had an amazing workout. i got a tan (which rumor has it is bad for your skin and life span) work was good. had a long conversation with a good friend.
i sign on here... and windfuckinghover has posted a poem..
yep, this is a good day.
it's a good poem too.. i need to study it more
but wanted to say i was here reveling.
smooches
m
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Maybe it was your good influence, but I joined the gym at work a couple months ago (it can't possibly be the fact that I've finally admitted that I'm a lazy sod who needs to fight the effects of time). I didn't work out today, but getting a comment from you has definitely uplifted the day. You have my full-throated encouragement on the tan. It's summer and we should take advantage; let cancerous death do it's creep, it wouldn't dare disturb you- your smooches can grind it naught.
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