A Queen in Green Patina
LOOKING AT THIS SCAR REMINDS ME ...
(after Edwin Morgan's Arnheim)
Having no memory, I collect
postcards / and such
to remind me of holidays.
I'm looking at one now:
From hell, the souvenirs are stones.
L'bro // 53 minutes into Wednesday
C'MON! ... was
d in some
of some kind
of yore (a word?)
gone (to do,
or not (possibly),
with me) ...
february 11 2004
Weekend Snaps: Two Melbourne Public Gardens
The Williamstown Botanic Gardens
have many gates which are never closed;
the tree-hungry eye registers
here more symmetry than variety,
a frock-coated municipal statue,
an aviary without labels
much dark wire and a few
an ornamental lake all stone
and concrete, without water:
cylinders of clean perspex
embrace the trunks of most trees,
deterrent to possums no doubt;
almost nothing labelled, except
the Liquid Amber Lawn
where I recognize
Our home suburb has a Native Garden,
high-fenced, everything labelled,
free-ranging birds and possums,
and most days it closes at four.
- Max Richards, North Balwyn, Melbourne
3.00pm Wed 11 Feb 04
from a rather
gloomy small study
packed with books
over there south
a few yards
of reference books
then up to ceiling
double packed much
west area swamped
by the hundred
music -'spoken word'
buried in a rather
in old office files
then the north wall
working face a cliff
of actual writing files
and odds some looking lost
then back west -window
still gloomy out there
computer- printer -radio
'warmer -no rain' forecast
hedge and Edwardian street
newly much hewn tree
now giving more light
better do my snapshot
sift incoming emails
from flashy gaudy spam
Oz promiscuous sprinklers
gosh Iceland already
dancing across page
cat has chewed
dragon plant again
apparently not poisonous
pmcmanus raynes park london
09:00 nearly valentine's day
Running away from an army patrol
Seem vulgar and must not.
Not overawed by the universe.
A sweat of guilt -
it has its poetic side; clomping there amongst
springing Claude on them.
Point about him. The attraction
randy when he had a hangover.
It isn't the point.
Dress not the humble exterior
evidence to the contrary.
Needn't tell you that neither.
excessive, don't you think?
Barry Alpert / Silver Spring, MD US / 2-6, 2-9, 2-11-04 (6:12 AM)
Some time off to watch _The Last Picture Show_ by Peter Bogdanovich
b/w; 121'; '71;
outside the sun inflates volumes to a new
brilliant pastel colors let a park speak of a
September Parisian corner,
seen somewhere before -
maybe the given remembrance of a dear one,
on Wednesdays it's mild,
the big fir tree a forceful alga moving in the air
in the early afternoon traffic is kind,
the town an oasis among mountains
with its palms, we pass through dark & bright shapes,
on the balcony in front a gemmed plant:
hope widens my lungs in a deep breath
work to mark, coffee-cigarette, pens, I will be shut here inside for
hours from now.
Anny Ballardini, February 11, '04, Bozen
what do you mean? poetry?
why yesterday I
a respected older poet
read slow monologues
not dramatic enough
pretending to be poems
& lecturing between
the latter wasn't there
then in the evening
carried away by youth
their first readings
such love of words
as i look back
to welcome them
they walk right by
Edmonton Canada 08: 50 Wednesday February 11 03
the whole day;
an oh so slow
and a source
closer to home.
opening full lips
to lamp light.
Beaumaris, Anglesey, North Wales, 11 February 2004
the bells of the church ring
I put on my best face
taking the world in shifts
West Irondequoit, New York, United States
2.11.04, noon Jerry Schwartz
Harp Seal Bark
No poem, nothing will come, only
our dog this week encountering
a harp seal pup, beached, surely afraid,
and the dog tries to get it to play,
the harp seal barks too.
A failure to communicate
even though they speak something
like the same language?
SANDBURG'S ALLEGED CAT
Damned if the little beast didn't walk
on little cat feet. What
do you expect from a feline?
Silence: questionable. Exile:
only if Carl by mistake left the cat
That's what they're for.
Maybe Carl had his cat declawed
so you'd never hear him coming.
Some people like surprises
along the line of IRS audits,
unexpected transmission jobs,
or a dose ("Jesus, she said it was okay!").
So perhaps, being of milder nature,
Carl liked the cat to spring up on him
from behind, never hear it coming.
Fog at the Jersey Shore rolls silently
onto the peninsula.
The dog, frightened, will not walk in it.
The cats live indoors.
Little cat feet in your dreams and mine--
they clatter and slide over the floors at 2 AM,
running side by side,
less the silence of Jersey fog than
Turnpike traffic and the Ben Hur chariot race.
Ken Wolman/2-11-04 (backdated like a bad check)
Poetryetc is a listserv relating to poetry and poetics which provides a forum for poets to debate their critical and creative work. The list has over the years run a number of projects for its members, of which Snapshots has been the most enduring.
Every Wednesday, Poetryetc members were invited to post short poems on any subject or in any form they chose. The idea was to make a poetic collage of instamatic snaps of that day that reflected the international membership of the list. The project has generated an astounding number of poems.
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