I’m sending my poems to reform school.
To prison. To the front lines. Straight to hell
on a one-way ticket.
To honor Lawrence Ferlinghetti on his 96th birthday, I send along this poem about poems. i I’ve never written a poem that said what I meant one means as much … Continue reading
In the dark of the jeweled cities, below the mirror
buildings, in the wind that funnels up the street canyons
blowing hats off and women’s hair sideways
poets are passing a small flame from one pair
of cupped hands to another.
Morning rumination: Hive mind, large and small. Some years ago, having been trained in the tight modernist lyric, the poem that adds up to the neat conclusion, usually with an … Continue reading