William Keckler. Poet, Narcissist, Blawger. Formerly, the Valerie Solanas of American poetry blogs. If I owe you an apology, I'm saying it right here. Goreyphile from a very early age. I wish I could say humans move me closer to God, but usually it's the Cocteau Twins. On most days crazy as a Trappist monk talk show. I don't hate anyone but human coat hangers get on my nerves.
2 comments:
Yo Oshi
WINTER VALENTINE
Sometimes when I’m reading
Robert Creeley it feels like I’m
really reading Robert Frost you
know the pine smoke maybe
and sometimes when I’m reading
Robert Frost I start sinking down
into my fifth grade seat in a dark
woods staring over at you
abstract as experience can be
lustful and forgiving and snowing
but your face is not ash
to me I brush my cheek
where I’ve kept you
where you slept.
Creeley did move that direction later...
towards memory...pristine memory...
i like all the Robt Creeleys...
I like your poem.
All these times exist next to one another.
A library is a good metaphor for the human...even if you don't open the books.
If you just look at the books.
Post a Comment