Not about the Moon
for Edna St. Vincent Millay
Paris, or New York?
Summers at Vassar
That one gorgeous, dog-eared,
dogwood Summer.
Our flushed cheekbones
brushing up against those pink
peonies, and breathy groans
For both of you, everything would grow.
first you Thelma, then Edmund,
while I was writing about the moon,
you both at your leisure begged,
asked, would the truth come very soon,
Not your place, lover, not your place.
I, angered, with an upturned brow,
stormed off to weekend trips in the Village
“Don't tell me what to write about!”
I'm very good at saying no,
I told everyone to call me Vincent
everyone said no, to me,
and no one ever listened.
Confessions, Confessions, Confessions,
I just do not have the time.
There is not enough paper,
and there is not enough rhyme.
Tickle your toes. . .
-
Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
-
when I was a little girl I was taught try your hardest to avoid any difficult knot. Tie your ties loosely. So loosely they hang to the sides...
-
for Allen Ginsberg i am not blue. i am a sunflower of more than one color. though i hold too much water until i am green, i am not blue. i a...
-
Recently I have been really attempting to delve into what it means to be a poet. Jim Morrison once wanted to be a poet, and look where it go...
-
Happy April. I am currently working on this month's series "you don't remember anything, even though you were there." ov...
-
shake up my heart and flavor your life it is full of holes. you cannot see me for I am brow deep in my old pain and I cannot speak because I...
-
RICK: Hey Rick? DICK: Yea, Dick? RICK: See that sky roll on by? (points) DICK: ...Oh, my... RICK: Don't i-t'almost makes yer wanner.... -
when we are twisted up together-in blankets and the colors of the outside of our window- are washed out in the storm.
-
like me- it serves as a question as well as an appropriately foolish letter in bad company it only teams up with words like yodel, ...
-
a delicious party? a change of environment? Look at that trading in your "leopard pilbox hat" for a rusty chain, tug me back (agai...
Poets United Contributor
No comments:
Post a Comment