Category Archives: new voices
Modern poetry is not simply a matter of cleverly arranged words. Any modern poet worth his salt must be a mystic.
The Spirit Wind The spirit wind lives, sometimes I hear it sing, sometimes on foggy riverbanks sometimes in high ravines.
A modern poet must be precise enough to be obscure in the right places.
Here is the poem The Creek in its entirety. Thank you, readers, for bearing with me in these three stages. I appreciate the helpful and thoughtful comments thus far. I welcome further conversation about this poem. The Creek I … Continue reading
Here it is, the second installment in this three-part prose poem about a creek behind my boyhood home. I’ve reprinted part one here, too, so you won’t have to refer back to yesterday’s post. I hope you enjoy this. Comments … Continue reading
This evening’s installment is part one of a three-part prose/poem about the creek of my boyhood. I’ll post the middle and last parts tomorrow. Feedback and comment is invited. The Creek Our creek was not like the … Continue reading
Blake Whimsey William Blake brought men awake. Made other poets seem like fakes. He wrote his songs on wooden plates. Wrote them all for heaven’s sake. copyright 2014
It Is Always August It is always August. If time would stop, it would stand still Under the dog star Winter lingers, but all of that season is labor Boots, gloves, scarves and coats Off and on, on … Continue reading
Two Rivers I cross this river twice a day at sixty miles an hour. This city was built here one hundred and eighty-seven years ago at the confluence of these two great streams. We know the names of … Continue reading