31 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #31 : Night


          Blue shadow on the cheek

                    Smudge of gray ash in the fireplace

                              At night the vines hug the walls they are heart-shaped purple and bleeding on the bricks

          I'd say they were bougainvillea but that's obvious they may as well be ivy itching at the stone walls and pulling mortar from the cracks hiding animals hiding so many windows

                    You hide blue with orange

                              The cadmium is opaque is breaking

           In the YouTube video they show the woman covering the man's face with thick tangerine-colored concealer then with thick beige concealer then with rouge

          I don't get a five o'clock shadow

                    The bricks pop and fall the mirror hides itself

30 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #30 : Glow


I sit in the light of a thousand LED lights - it's comforting - they last thousands of hours - that something will last longer than the cells in my face

It's like the lighting in Barry Lyndon - flickering bonfire on the skin
Let's put on our topcoats and dance the volta - let's dance the volta like it's the Restoration and our hair is piled in powder and curls with a model sailing ship on top

A brown swirl of water comes up over the bank of sand - it foams like sewage - the sound of it absorbing is the sound a tree pressing its roots into earth

What is this circle of lights here for - it's in the trees of this forest - fireflies can't hold a - they dance in the wind that whips itself the wires are barbed cat-o-nine tails are lashing the molecules of oxygen are burning them and scattering them

It's difficult to understand - it's a stone rolling itself down a hill and breaking the surface of an ice cold lake

Source: Paper Lantern Store

29 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #29 : Second Life

Second Life

I gave him dark green pants and a brocade vest
          I think the shirt was muddy brown - loose fitting - linen
                    Lace up shoes and then we were standing on an outcropping that
overlooked a great rocky valley          everything green and white and tree-covered
Do you remember the signs          We walked down a long trail
passing by them - they had paper pinned to them
          curling at the edges - the words were blurred were gray were script about how to walk
                     how to move in the space - walk further          faster          careful
                     The world is populated
                     There are others walking this path          ahead is a mass of gray
                               you expect it to be castles          it is skyscrapers
           Buildings labeled Embassy - University - Nightclub -
           Who is there today -
                                                                        Aside from the empty space
                                                              and the pixels.

28 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #28 : T. M. I.

T. M. I.

Airplanes bank & whorl over the cooling towers
                    four of them          two spreading their foaming mists
          The other two -

                                                  What happens when
two reporters film a meltdown

                                                  Is it viral

          The reporters also melt          into 11 tons of elephant
ashen & wrapped in a sarcophagus of concrete
they puff like mushrooms -

                                        The planes          a line of them
a Muybridge progression          frozen
                                                              with no feet on the ground

                                                  The funnels pull in - hungry mouths lined with eyes

                              They stomp along the island -

Source - EPA

27 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #27 : Camping on The Battleground

Camping on The Battleground

          White light on
purple eyes          the night skins at you          the reeds
                    wrapped in yellow string          vent themselves
in the mouth exhaust

Lungs aren't quite like pipes          tube fibers
that          branch infinitely          snail feelers
                                                  in search of a shell

                    The conch of the ear radios for help          no one
there          probably a number for an abandoned phone booth

          It's too cold for this          the marsh is milk in this cold
the reeds are turning gray in this cold
                              The sky is a pool of absorbing in this cold

There is the echo of horse hooves          the spectral
          image of a rider          the fires of death
do not go out -

26 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #26 : Sous le Feu de la Guerre

Sous le Feu de la Guerre

The sun was in my eyes - that is the first thing

The song on the radio was about war - but not this current one

I was thinking about an essay on sudden horrific intrusion and about how easy it would be to just drive the car into oncoming traffic - that moment when you're standing on a balcony and want to jump

Sunsets do that weird lens flare thing like sci fi movies - I've never seen a green flash but I know it's out there

What about driving a car into the Grand Canyon

There's mountains within mountains somewhere - they might even be ancient - you would be forgiven if you begin to suspect that one climbs Everest to try to die

There's a second thing you should know -

25 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #25 : Our Conclusion (Thatcher Erased 6)

And since the elections, it sometimes seems we are the only (Thatcher Erased)
                    - from a speech delivered by Margaret Thatcher in 1987

6. Our Policies Conclusion

Our policies, Conservative policies, are bearing fruit and we have every reason to be pleased. But we must not let satisfaction turn to euphoria.

We are ready for improved relations with the Soviet Union. But we can't afford to take anything on trust. Nor should we be deceived by changes in style rather than substance. We shall continue to judge the Soviet Union not by what they say but by what they do.

We believe that the strategic nuclear weapons of the United States and the Soviet Union could be reduced by 50 per cent without endangering western security. But so long as the Soviet Union continues to enjoy massive superiority in chemical and conventional forces, we say that reductions in nuclear weapons in Europe have gone far enough. As the Supreme Allied Commander in Europe reminded us recently: it is not a nuclear-free Europe we want, it is a war-free Europe. Nuclear weapons will continue to play a vital role in preventing war in Europe—as they have done for forty years. And that is why we will press ahead with Trident and the modernisation of our independent deterrent, vital to our security. Mr President, the British people want peace. But it must be a peace with freedom and justice. And that peace is only maintained by keeping our defences strong, by resisting violence and intimidation at home, and by standing up to tyrants and terrorists abroad.

That is the true spirit of the British people. That is the spirit which sustained us through two world wars. And it guides us still. CONCLUSION Mr President, you may perhaps have heard that I'm a faithful student of Rudyard Kipling.

Occasionally, I've even been known to quote him. So it won't come as a complete surprise if I refer to his poem "Recessional", in which he warned us to beware of boasting and to keep "A humble and a contrite heart". That's sound advice to any Government. But may I say today we have both a right and a duty to remind the whole free world that, once more, Britain is confident, strong, trusted. Confident, because attitudes have changed. "Can't be done" has given way to "What's to stop us?" Strong, because our economy is enterprising, competitive and expanding. And trusted, because we are known to be a powerful ally and a faithful friend. All this has been made possible by the national revival which we have carried through. And everyone in this hall, and millions outside it, can claim a share in that revival.

Now, once again, it has fallen to the Conservatives to lead the nation into the 1990s. Let us face that future with quiet confidence born of what we have accomplished in the last eight years.Britain's institutions are shaped by the character of her people. It's all that is gifted, just and fair in that character which reassures our friends and allies; and brings hope to those who have yet to know the liberty we take for granted. Mr President, it is a great trust which has been placed in our care. May we never fail that trust.

24 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #24 : Defense (Thatcher Erased 5)

And since the elections, it sometimes seems we are the only (Thatcher Erased)
                    - from a speech delivered by Margaret Thatcher in 1987

5. Defense

Mr President, our conference takes place at a time which could prove to be a historic turning point in world affairs. And we can say—with some pride—that Britain has played a major part in creating the opportunities which now open up before us. It is, of course, a time of tension and even of danger in the Persian Gulf. But there, too, Britain is giving a strong lead. And I do indeed pay tribute to both Geoffrey Howe and you, Mr President, for the lead which you have given. May I join you, Mr President, in speaking for this whole conference—and indeed for the people of this country—when I express our thanks and appreciation to the Merchant Officers and seamen who sail that vital waterway; and to the Royal Navy's Armilla Patrol and its minesweepers which protect them. We honour their dedication and their courage.

But today is also a time of hope. Indeed there is no mistaking the bracing air of change in the Soviet Union. In my many hours of talking with Mr Gorbachev in Moscow earlier this year, his determination to bring about far-reaching reform was plain. The difficulties and obstacles confronting him are massive. But we must recognise that anything which increases human liberty, which extends the boundaries of discussion and which increases initiative and enterprise in the Soviet Union, is of fundamental importance in terms of human rights. And that's why we support it. That is why we have publicly welcomed and encouraged those aspects of Mr Gorbachev's reforms which do just this. They are genuinely courageous—not least in their admission that, after seventy years, the socialist system has failed to produce the standard of life the Russian people want. But Mr President, we have yet to see that change carried through into the Soviet Union's policies towards the outside world. The traditional instruments of Soviet power—military strength, subversion, propaganda—are all being exercised as vigorously as ever. Afghanistan is still occupied. The Berlin Wall still stands, and Soviet weapons are still pouring into Third World countries which need food but not arms. They get the food from the free world and arms from the Soviet Union.

There is however hope in the agreement which now seems certain to be signed later this autumn, by the United States and the Soviet Union, to eliminate medium and shorter-range nuclear missiles. We welcome that agreement. Indeed Britain has contributed in a major way to its achievement. It's a success for the West—especially for the United States and President Reagan. But let us remember one thing. If we had listened to the Labour Party and to CND—insofar as you can distinguish between the two—that agreement would never have been achieved. The Russians would have kept their thirteen hundred nuclear warheads, while the West would have given away its three hundred, for nothing in return. That lesson must never be forgotten. Reductions in nuclear weapons come about not from weakness, but from strength.

23 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #23 : The Fight Against Crime (Thatcher Erased 4)

And since the elections, it sometimes seems we are the only (Thatcher Erased)
          - from a speech delivered by Margaret Thatcher in 1987

4. The Fight Against Crime

But our greatest concern, in inner cities and elsewhere, is to reverse the tide of crime which disfigures our lives. On Wednesday, we debated crime with a depth of concern that reflects the feelings of every decent person in the country. Crime invades homes; it breaks hearts; it drags down neighbourhoods; and it spreads fear. The Government is playing its full part in the fight against crime. We have strengthened the Police. We have introduced tougher sentences. Violent crime concerns us, above all. It's not just that violent crime is worse than other crime. It's much worse.

And that's why we are now taking still tougher action against knives and against guns. Even so the feeling persists that some of the sentences passed by the courts have not measured up to the enormity of crime.

And so as Douglas Hurd announced this week, we shall be introducing legislation to provide for an appeal against sentences which are too lenient. And may I point out it will be the second time this Government has brought a measure of this kind before Parliament. And I hope that this time it will receive a speedy passage on to the statute book. But we shall make little progress in the drive against crime if we expect the police and the courts to take on the whole burden.

When we are sick, we turn to the doctor; yet we accept responsibility for taking care of our health. When fire breaks out, we call in the Fire Brigade; yet we know it is up to us to take sensible precautions against fire. So it is with crime. There is enormous scope for the public to help the police in what, after all, is a common duty: in neighbourhood watch; in businesses watch; in crime prevention; in prompt reporting of crime seen or suspected; and in readiness to give evidence.

But even that is not enough. Civilised society doesn't just happen. It has to be sustained by standards widely accepted and upheld.

And we must draw on the moral energy of society. And we must draw on the values of family life. For the family is in the first place where we learn those habits of mutual love, tolerance and service on which every healthy nation depends for its survival.

It was Sir William Haley, the great Editor of The Times, who, twenty years ago, said this, "There are things which are bad and false and ugly and no amount of argument or specious casuistry will make them good or true or beautiful. It is time that these things were said". And he said them. But if we are to succeed today, all those in authority must recover that confidence and speak with a strong, emphatic and single voice. Because too often, they speak in different and conflicting voices. The great majority of crimes are committed by young people, in their teens and early twenties. It is on such impressionable young people that anti-police propaganda and the glamorisation of crime can have the most deadly effect. And when left-wing councils and left-wing teachers criticize the police they give moral sanction to the criminally inclined. When the broadcasters flout their own standards on violent television programmes, they risk a brutalising effect on the morally unstable.

When the Labour Party refuses to support the Prevention of Terrorism Act—an Act that saves lives—they weaken society, they weaken society's resistance to the modern scourge of terrorism. Local councils, teachers, broadcasters, politicians: all of us have a responsibility to uphold the civilised values which underpin the law.

We owe it to society of which we are a part. And we owe it especially to future generations who will inherit the society that we create. (Applause)

22 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #22 : Inner Cities (Thatcher Erased 3)

And since the elections, it sometimes seems we are the only (Thatcher Erased)
          - from a speech delivered by Margaret Thatcher in 1987

3. Inner Cities

Now Mr President, the phrase "inner cities" is a kind of convenient shorthand for a host of problems. Cities have risen and declined throughout history. Risen by responding to the opportunities, the markets, the technologies of their day have offered. And declined when they clung to old, outdated ways and new markets passed them by. That is what's happened to many of our great cities. And their decline was sometimes aggravated by the worst form of post-war town planning—a sort of social vandalism, carried out with the best of intentions but the worst of results.

All too often, the planners cut the heart out of our cities. They swept aside the familiar city centres that had grown up over the centuries. They replaced them with a wedge of tower blocks and linking expressways, interspersed with token patches of grass and a few windswept piazzas, where pedestrians fear to tread.

The planners didn't think: "Are we breaking the pattern of people's lives. Are we cutting them off from their friends, their neighbours?" They didn't wonder: "Are we uprooting whole communities?" They didn't ask "Can children still play safely in the street?"

They didn't consider any of these things. Nor did they consult the police about how to design an estate in which people could walk safe from muggers and vandals. They simply set the municipal bulldozer to work. What folly, what incredible folly.

And the people who didn't fit into this urban utopia? They dispatched them to outlying estates without a pub or corner shop or anywhere to go. Oh! the schemes won a number of architectural awards. But they were a nightmare for the people. They snuffed out any spark of local enterprise. And they made people entirely dependent on the local authorities and the services they chose to provide. And as if that were not enough, some of our cities have also been dominated by Labour councils implacably hostile to enterprise. So when industries left, they piled higher rates on those that remained. When old markets vanished, they sought not new markets but new subsidies. And they capitalised not on their strengths, but on their weaknesses. And in fact they accelerated decline.

So dying industries, soulless planning, municipal socialism—these deprived the people of the most precious things in life: hope, confidence and belief in themselves. And that sapping of the spirit is at the very heart of urban decay. Mr President, to give back heart to our cities we must give back hope to the people. And it's beginning to happen.

Because today Britain has a strong and growing economy. Oh yes, recovery has come faster in some parts of the country than others. But now it is taking root in our most depressed urban landscapes. We all applaud the organisation "Business in the Community"it is over 300 major firms that have come together to assist in reviving the urban communities from which so many of them sprang.

So many of the amenities of our towns and citiesthe parks and public gardens, the libraries and art galleries, the churches and schools—they had their origin in the philanthropy of men who made good themselves, and they wanted to do good for others. That impulsethat sense of obligation to the wider communityit is that we must enlist today.

I've seen the start of recovery for myself: on Teeside, in Gateshead, in Wolverhampton and the West Midlands. And in Glasgow, which is undergoing a remarkable revival, thanks largely to the work of George Younger and Malcolm Rifkind. I shall never forget one Glaswegian I met on my visit there. "How do you do?" I said. "My name's Margaret Thatcher." "Mine's Winston Churchill", he replied. And astonishingly enough it was. And he produced a document to prove it. Winston Harry Churchill. Absolutely splendid person.

Mr President, to speed up the process of recovery in these and other places, we have a whole battery of special measures and programmes—you heard about them from Kenneth Clarke: special measures and programmes to clear derelict land—to renovate run-down council estates—and to regenerate city centres—and to turn dereliction into development. But by themselves these measures are not enough. We must also give people in the inner cities the opportunity to improve their own lives and the belief that they can do it.

The major reforms in our programme are of course designed for the whole country. But they will be of particular benefit to inner cities. We will free tenants from their dependence on council landlords. We will free parents to choose the schools they want for their children. We will free businesses in the urban development areas from irksome planning restrictions and controls.

And with our rate reform legislation, socialist councils will no longer be able to drive out small businesses and destroy employment by imposing sky-high rates. And above all, the community charge will make local councils far more accountable to all their voters.

With all these things taken together, these measures will greatly reduce the power of the local council over tenants, parents, pupils and businesses; and greatly increase the opportunities open to those very people. To coin a phrase it is an "irreversible shift ... of power ... in favour of working people and their families". Mr President, the social problems of some inner cities are deep-seated. Quick and easy solutions are not possible. But the philosophy of enterprise and opportunity, which has put the spark back into our national economy—that is the way—and the only way—to rejuvenate our cities and restore their confidence and pride.

21 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #21 : Education (Thatcher Erased 2)

And since the elections, it sometimes seems we are the only (Thatcher Erased)
          - from a speech delivered by Margaret Thatcher in 1987

2. Education

And Mr President, our most important task in this Parliament is to raise the quality of education. You heard what Kenneth Baker had to say about it in that most interesting, stimulating debate we had the other day. It's in the national interest. And it's in the individual interest of every parent and above all, of every child. We want education to be part of the answer to Britain's problems, not part of the cause.

To compete successfully in tomorrow's world—against Japan, Germany and the United States—we need well-educated, well-trained, creative young people. Because if education is backward today, national performance will be backward tomorrow.

But it's the plight of individual boys and girls which worries me most. Too often, our children don't get the education they need—the education they deserveAnd in the inner cities—where youngsters must have a decent education if they are to have a better future—that opportunity is all too often snatched from them by hard left education authorities and extremist teachers.

And children who need to be able to count and multiply are learning anti-racist mathematics—whatever that may be. Children who need to be able to express themselves in clear English are being taught political slogans. Children who need to be taught to respect traditional moral values are being taught that they have an inalienable right to be gay.

And children who need encouragement—and children do so much need encouragement—so many children—they are being taught that our society offers them no future.

All of those children are being cheated of a sound start in life—yes cheated.
Of course—in the country as a whole—there are plenty of excellent teachers and successful schools. And in every good school, and every good teacher, is a reminder of what too many young people are denied. I believe that government must take the primary responsibility for setting standards for the education of our children. And that's why we are establishing a national curriculum for basic subjects. It is vital that children master essential skills: reading, writing, spelling, grammar, arithmetic; and that they understand basic science and technology. And for good teachers this will provide a foundation on which they can build with their own creative skill and professionalism.

But the key to raising standards is to enlist the support of parents.
The Labour left—hard, soft and in-between—they hate the idea that people should be able to choose. In particular, they hate the idea that parents should be able to choose their children's education. The Conservative Party believes in parental choice. And we are now about to take two dramatic steps forward in extending choice in education. First, we will allow popular schools to take in as many children as space will permit. And this will stop local authorities from putting artificially low limits on entry to good schools.

And second, we will give parents and governors the right to take their children's school out of the hands of the local authority and into the hands of their own governing body. This will create a new kind of school funded by the State, alongside the present State schools and the independent private schools. These new schools will be independent state schools. They will bring a better education to many children because the school will be in the hands of those who care most for it and for its future.

Mr President, there's no reason at all why local authorities should have a monopoly of free education. What principle suggests that this is right? What recent experience or practice suggests it is even sensible?
In these ways, we are furthering our Conservative tradition of extending opportunity more widely. This policy will be of the greatest advantage, not to those schools where the parents are already satisfied with their children's education, but to those schools where the parents are dissatisfied and believe that their children could do a lot better. Nowhere is this policy more needed than in what have come to be known as "inner cities". It will profit those people most.

20 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #20 : From Impossibility to Victory (Thatcher Erased 1)

And since the elections, it sometimes seems we are the only (Thatcher Erased)
          - from a speech delivered by Margaret Thatcher in 1987

1. From Impossibility to Victory

Mr President, twelve years ago, I first stood on this platform as Leader of the Conservative Party. Now one or two things have changed since 1975. In that year we were still groaning under Labour's so-called "social contract". People said we should never be able to govern again.
Remember how we had all been lectured about political impossibility? You couldn't be a Conservative, and
sound like a Conservative, and win an election—they said. And you certainly couldn't win an election and then act like a Conservative and win another election. And—this was absolutely beyond dispute—you couldn't win two elections and go on behaving like a Conservative, and yet win a third election. Don't you harbour just the faintest suspicion that somewhere along the line something went wrong with that theory?

Right up to the 11th of June, the Labour Party, the Liberals and the SDP were busy saying that Conservatism doesn't work. Oddly enough, since the 12th of June, they've been saying that it does. And so our political opponents are now feverishly packaging their policies to look like ours. And it's interesting that no Party now dares to say openly that it will take away from the people what we have given back to the people. Mr President, Labour's language may alter, their presentation may be slicker, but underneath, it's still the same old socialism. Far be it from me to deride the sinner that repenteth. The trouble with Labour is they want the benefit of repentance without renouncing the original sin. No way!

And the so-called "Alliance"? During the election campaign I used to wonder what the Alliance leaders meant by consensus politics. I have a feeling that, if Dr Owen didn't know it before, he knows now: six inches of fraternal steel beneath the shoulder blades. Mr President, we are a successful party leading a successful nation.

And I'm often asked what's the secret. It's really quite simple. What we have done is to re-establish at the heart of British politics a handful of simple truths. First, no economy can thrive if Government debases the coinage. No society can be fair or stable when inflation eats up savings and devalues the pound in everyone's pocket.

Inflation threatens democracy itself. We've always put its defeat at the top of our agenda. For it's a battle which never ends. It means keeping your budget on a sound financial footing. Not just one year, but every year and that's why we need Nigel Lawson. The second, men and women need the incentive that comes from keeping more of what they earn. No-one can say that people aren't interested in their take-home pay. If that were true, a lot of trade union leaders would be out of a job. So as economic growth has taken off, we've cut income tax. And as soon as we prudently can, we'll do it again. And third, as people earn more, they want to own more. They value the security which comes from ownership—whether of shares or homes.

Soon there will be more shareholders than trade unionists in this country. Of course, not all trade unionists are shareholders—yet. But I hope that before long they will be. Home ownership too has soared. And to extend the right to council tenants, we had to fight the battle as you know, the battle in Parliament every inch of the way. Against Labour opposition. And against Liberal opposition. Does the Labour Leader now applaud what has happened? Does the Liberal Leader welcome it? Surely, now that it's proved so popular, it must be the sort of liberating measure of which even he would approve. For years we Conservatives had talked about wanting to create a property-owning democracy. Looking back, I wonder whether we did as much as we should have done to achieve that goal. But I don't believe that anyone will be able, in the years ahead, to make a similar charge against this Government, indeed, extending ownership has been one of the achievements of which I am most proud. And fourth, it is our passionate belief that free enterprise and competition are the engines of prosperity and the guardians of liberty.

These ideas have shaped free political institutions and brought unimagined wealth to countries and continents. Just look at what we have achieved—low inflation; tax cuts; wider ownership; a revival of enterprise and, over the last year, unemployment has fallen at record speed by 400,000. And we want it to fall further. And with continued economic growth, it shouldAnd our economic success has enabled Britain to play a more prominent role in the world at large. We are now the second biggest investor in the world, and the very model of a stable economy. And that's why Nigel Lawson has been able to play a leading role in helping to tackle the world debt crisis. International bankers, the finance Ministers of other nations: they all listen to you a lot harder when they owe you money rather than the other way round.

The old Britain of the 1970s, with its strikes, poor productivity, low investment, winters of discontent, above all its gloom, its pessimism, its sheer defeatism—that Britain is gone.
And we now have a new Britain, confident, optimistic, sure of its economic strength—a Britain to which foreigners come to admire, to invest, yes, and to imitate. I have reminded you where the great political adventure began and where it has led. But is this where we pitch our tents? Is this where we dig in? Absolutely not. Our third election victory was only a staging post on a much longer journey.                                                      And I know with every fibre of my being that it would be fatal for us just to stand where we are now. What would be our slogan for the 1990s if we did that? Would "consolidate" be the word that we stitch on our banners? Whose blood would run faster at the prospect of five years of consolidation?

Of course, we secure what we've achieved. But we move on—applying our principles and beliefs to even more challenging ground. For our purpose as Conservatives is to extend opportunity—and choice—to those who have so far have been denied them.

19 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #19 : Unweaving the Rainbow (Keats Erased)

Unweaving the Rainbow (Keats Erased)

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
       Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
       A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape
       Of deities or mortals, or of both,
               In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
       What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
               What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
       Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
       Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
       Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
               Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
       She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
               For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
         Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
         For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
         For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
                For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
         That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
                A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
         To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
         And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
         Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
                Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
         Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
                Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

18 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #18 : Boom


Here          there be


What is the path of the asteroid
elliptical          ovoid
          the shape of a goat's eye

It lands in the field

          burning          leaving scars
in the forests

It leaves a ball of ice

full of limbs          blood
          melting weapons

full of ammunition

17 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #17 : On The Eve of The End of The Universe

On The Eve of The End of The Universe

Being a poet requires patience

                                faith that time's slow erosion isn't vile
      isn't just the march of atoms wanting to be immensely alone

Things must be willing to continue to find them beautiful

                                Even objects caught in death throws want

It's hard these days to see the tap dance as more than just sound
                                                            breaking in concrete rooms
against an eardrum

Wave against the side of a levee

There is a required need to see humanity succeed

                                Even at their worst they are

Notice the lack of things needing to continue to be beautiful
      sit in the lack      let it alone you

16 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #16 : LV PM (OE)


I want to lighthouse you

The ocean will do that beating against the shore thing it does and out there in the expanse some kind of octopus will wrap itself inside of an old soup can for shelter

Cream of mushroom most likely its always cream of mushroom

The tower isn't a metaphor for cock it isn't about sex not this time it's about illumination the kind with large letters drawn at the start of chapters the kind with doodles in the margins

I want to bedrock you

Put this down under foot that there is solidity in this and there is permanence and there is a big sky blowing up with clouds and wind

When the bomb of the sun hits the sky the darkness evaporates into rain

I spin in a circle my arm outreached the fingers are rays and everything they hit becomes highlighter and shadow they never burn out they are diligent in their touching

15 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #15 : Your Arm Is A Glass Bottle

Your Arm Is A Glass Bottle

Curl your twigs around this waist
and poke at the center of the base

Roll marble fingers on the sand
this sound is paper fires and strapped heels

Along the jellyfish streetlights
the concrete bulges like makeup

Here stone man tae the knife fingers
that I have in my pocket and trace them
along your wrists until they peel

The night is dumb with heat
your arm is so fragile that it melts at the elbow

Clouds shatter endlessly on themselves
as the moon triangles

Source : Little Dog Vintage

14 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #14 : Election Year Feels 2

Election Year Feels 2

          you self-destructive ass

          The stage is empty
and the flags are limp          The corners collect confetti

Outside in the street there are probably protestors
          but the sounds are empty and static - breaking overhead

the sound of all the balloons popping

America, tell me what the concrete is for if not grinding faces to pulp
          Skin mixing with spit and cum

Is this how you like it? I'm not so sure - there is a hesitance behind your eyes
a sort of "if not now, then when?" hovering in the periphery of yourself

Like a windless parachute          you unopen and fill
with yourself

                    and fill with everything else too

13 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #13 : Election Year Feels

Election Year Feels

America - you are always in a state of emergency

          You couldn't be more basic          You like
the masochism          I keep waiting for you to ask

for help tying that rope
                                  to hand you a lemon wedge

12 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #12 : them/arrows


I wonder about the people who design iconography
the mindset of simplification is foreign and mysterious
like night time streets in a city I've never been to

There is a path along the canal from Canada Water to the hostel
and the group of young boys is tossing the ball between them
it's probably mid-day and warm out but could just as easily be night

You - I - We - are walking far enough behind them
that we can't hear their words jut the periodic laughter
and the sound of the ball hitting cobblestone

The first time I came to this canal it was 5 in the morning
it was in December and cold and dark and wet
and there was only quiet and water and how do I know where to go

We could pretend there were signs with a little house on them
arrows ---> pointing to the path to the hostel doors

There were only windows reflecting darkness
the sound of luggage wheels catching on brick

Source - http://ppv-london.blogspot.com/2012/05/rotherhithe.html

11 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #11 : This Geology

This Geology

Elk preen on the edge of the canyon
clasping themselves to the rocks - lichen around the knobs gray and feathered

Wind boils itself - fire in the eyesockets of lime

Shapes make and unmake themselves - grasping soil and then letting it go
like birds from the nest

This geology is angry

Blood in out over - the universe begins with a shallow grave spun from a river
and it ends in the palms of a bee

10 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #10 : Fragile


      At the counter the man was bleeding had on dark glasses was holding himself in a way to make him invisible but he was clearly there he fumbled his wallet and struggled to see through the swollen eye and finally took his glasses off

      He said he got jumped

      At the counter the man was mumbling incoherent was probably drunk his clothes looked like they slept in a gutter he was picking at a large oozing wound on his arm the skin was turning white around the edges there was a smell of death in the room

      He said he was bitten by a brown recluse

      At the counter the man tried to say 'coffee' but his voice caught in its throat and rattled he managed to order but spilled it on the floor his head was wrapped again and again and again in white gauze his eye was shot through with red his face was purple

      He didn't say anything

09 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #9 : Ligthouse


A blue - rolling
          as if some marble on some tilted plane

      I want to discuss something with you - the broken promises etc.
How, when I was little, I thought I could learn to be a woman

          At night the curve of the earth is a flat dark line
      some seem to think this proves the panet's flatness - but

It only proves that our eyes are imperfect
          A red - sliding that is also gore erupting from within

      As if the mountain has given away
and the snow has begun to breathe

          The nets of your eyes - they wrap each body they find
      they cast in hopes of finding -

08 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #8 : I Have Been Writing This Poem For Ten Years

I Have Been Writing This Poem For Ten Years

The bus was white inside - blue seats -
          or orange -

                    The back seat is one long space
above the others by one step - there is a pleasure in this
a simplicity of space

                    Phones ring -
          this phone rings -


When I found out you were dead I was unaware how sick you were
I was sitting in the back row of a bus from one part of Brooklyn to another
I don't remember what song I was listening to - even if I was
But the day was diffused it was cloudy and indistinct other than the bus ride
The plan was to go to the Met - to stare at the history


In another museum - in England that's important -
          there is a painting -

                    Delaroche's The Execution of Lady Jane Grey
in it a young girl reaches tenderly for the block that will end her life
because she is falling -

                    A trip into
          severe presence -


At the Met there is an Egyptian temple fully rebuilt brick-by-brick
Worn until naked where else would a god reside than this sun lit Upper East Side room
I don't remember what I thought the first time I saw the displacement
But this time I noticed that the glass in the windows was stippled unsmooth
It moved the light around the room quietly and cooly


Your death - it was called fallish -
          the kind that just happens like it was always going to

                    Buses smell like burning vegetable oil
At the stoplight the old woman trips - an apple rolls
into the gutter - it is full of dust -

                    The phone rings -
          The voice on the other end is a block of wood

It is pulling forward

07 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #7 : Tangle


Everything smells like vanilla in the morning

          waters came then waters went and they took things with them

The purple eclipse slid through the stop sign

          driverless there were flashes of light from within like selfies being taken

Sargasso, the weed of deceit

          steam in pipes is leftover atom maneuvers

06 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #6 : Nephology


The lights in the dentist's office are covered in a sort of contact paper that has clouds on it

Each light has identical clouds - the lights cast a soft blueish glow - it turns an otherwise bright space into a dream-like experience

The clouds are pretty normal one is sort of spire-ish another resembles a lizard head - maybe a castle

It's hard not to think about floating into that space - climbing the castle steps - running the maze of hallways stomping each villain crossed until -

Would there be something at the end of the fight what would it look like to win that war - the one in a dentist's chair with clouds and castles - what does it feel like to finish

05 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #5 : Winter Morning

Winter Morning

Hash of leaves      soft    under foot
      the pillows on the bed still smell like you

Pine is caramel      vanilla      tar
      [the sound of birds]      sunlight waxen      drips

04 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #4 : Midsomer Murders

Midsomer Murders

That moment in the murder mystery when the missing girl wanders in covered in blood or the cute dog scratches up a rib bone -

The veil is mist off the Avon smelling of sulphur from the Baths is green as the burning of boron and the room begins to look like a Lautrec painting -

The girl will be walking towards usher arms out pleading stumbling forward in the same clothes she went missing in she will have a knife she did not commit -

Parting curtains are stages of red are the sound of fissures opening after a long rain the emptying of sink holes -

Knives only hold on to blood for so long then they rust and become objects broken and un-mendable and the dog will ruin the evidence with its teeth -

03 March 2016

Poem-A-Day #3 : bee sting

bee sting

          the red
      shoulder      the shoulder
where the red      hold
my hand I'm scared

          hold the red
      parts of my shoulder      in your hands
cup them      like tea sandwiches
overpriced and crustless

          my hand      slipping
      beneath my shirt
grabbing      at the knot of flesh
the animals keening endlessly

          where the bees
      in winter      go to red shoulder
drive off the edge of it
continue into a field of where