Poems towards a something new |
I: A simple image: church-side, treele pigeon qui entraîn le gaminqui le suit: &
nbsp; &nbs...
Posted by Terry on Thu, 25 Oct 2007 04:18:00 PST |
Scene: |
A: you're fat B: you are n'allA: you should look in't mirror when you get home B: at least we're sat up 'ere though, away from't fuckin' smack 'eds...
Posted by Terry on Wed, 09 May 2007 09:38:00 PST |
Poem |
The morning choir crescendos at each &n
bsp; &n
bsp; &...
Posted by Terry on Sat, 31 Mar 2007 02:01:00 PST |
London: |
London: The only America is Dustycrooning from some distant data bank,and though bus-drivers pull up for coffee & cake,and the Polish types you see these days &nb...
Posted by Terry on Sat, 31 Mar 2007 11:34:00 PST |
On Faucon: |
On Faucon:(In memory of visiting Faucon's exhibition les chamber d'amour with Lucy Turner) He asks if I am in love still.So I show him through these rooms,of sand shored...
Posted by Terry on Sat, 31 Mar 2007 11:32:00 PST |
Making tarts: |
I make currant tartsa scab or gouge unfurledeight lilies in a rowwaiting but uncookedupon opening the ovenI quilt down doorframesjust in case thechildren care to peekthe currant tarts are now &nb...
Posted by Terry on Sat, 31 Mar 2007 11:30:00 PST |
I (Evans) |
I (Evans):For Daniel Hartley Evans? Yes, many a timeI came down his bare flight Of stairs into the gaunt kitchenWith its wood fire, where crickets sangAccompaniment to the black kettle'sW...
Posted by Terry on Sat, 31 Mar 2007 11:29:00 PST |
II unfinished poems |
Photo of you on a Hill to the Sea: I don't know for sure(the loaded afternoon expands towards a seascape)but you're looking straight atme, and a cul-de-sac of trees off leftobscures...
Posted by Terry on Sat, 31 Mar 2007 11:27:00 PST |
Birthday: a sequence poem |
it's being quite so liminal between
not knowing and knowing, between bodies
[le cadeau emballé], between the lips
and speech, acts and naps
between books a nostalgic place.
A beautiful song he...
Posted by Terry on Thu, 01 Feb 2007 08:46:00 PST |
Red Sauce, Whiskey and Snow (a letter to August Kleinzahler) |
Red Sauce, Whiskey and Snow(A Letter to August Kleinzahler)Your poems form the contours of my room laid out, sheet by sheet, amongst the shirts; see, I'm writing on your work but cannot say that ...
Posted by Terry on Fri, 19 Jan 2007 04:38:00 PST |
