Sunday, April 5, 2020


Nearly Nowhere

Well it's half-past

hangin' time/time to

go rob

S' what the old lady sd. to me

Encapsulate it

and escape it


Even   /reiterate it


hangin' time/time to

go rob

Catherine Walsh
Idir Eatortha
Invisible Books

Saturday, April 4, 2020



Barbara Moraff with Allen Ginsberg

Let It Be

Logic includes no promiscuity.

Deadly Nightshade is all


Promiscuity, you ask, what


is it, how does it

function within us

or without us.

I tell you it is ignorance.

It ignores with pig passion

eats up everything in its

path. Look into its opaque

orange eyes & you see no

reflection of the real world.

Only density where existence

is an invulnerable thickness,

helplessly poisonous

like a belief system which is

strictly linear

in spite of its branching

                                        like lungs

through space.

Deadly Nightshade is my name

for the woman who stole my husband,

who screams at my children, who calls

my son 'freak' because he can eat no

fat, who never cleans up the glass

after she's slammed the door, who dresses

in thick pelts of richly endowed lambs

and buys her own children

their scanty garb at yard sales

and auctions held to settle


of those who

lived and died in poverty.

Another name for her is Scumcunt.


Barbara Moraff
Deadly Nightshade
Coffee House Press 

Thursday, April 2, 2020

Tuesday, March 31, 2020




They sap man’s substance

as moon the dew.

A rope grows erect

from the crown of the head.

A black swan hatches

from a pebble.

And a flock of angels in the sky

is taking an evening class

on the skid pan.

I dream, so I dream.

I dream

that three times three is nine,

that the right-hand

rule applies;

and when the circus leaves

the trampled ground will

once more overgrow with grass.

Yes, grass.

Unequivocal grass.

Just grass.

Miroslav Holub
Poems Before & After
Bloodaxe Books 

Monday, March 30, 2020


March 2020

YOKEL ( 25 ) ~

Come Closer

Once long ago in old Vermont

We stopped the car on a mud road

Into a village to ask directions from

Anyone we could find, and while you waited

In the car I went and stepped into a store, barely lit

And so dark and cavernous it seemed early-Spring-bear-like

As I finally saw a figure sitting in a rocking chair, a man,

And he asked out of the darkness how he might help

I’ll never forget that time nor that man, and of course

I have completely forgotten the name or place on the map

But it was real

Because —

A few years later, in the peach of summer, closer to home and

Again on an old road we stopped for directions, and this

Time I entered a hilltop farmhouse and could hear someone

Beckon to me to come closer down this sun dusty hallway

With the palest afternoon light, and by a corner woodstove

Sat a very old and rickety wood built man, ancient as the

Plaster walls, and he asked what he could do for me 


When I stepped back out the door I saw the maple trees dark

Leafed, trapping summertime in their bonnets — while broad 

Fields went to upper pastures shadowy lush and holding on

Holding on

                                                    for Richard Levasseur

After Chores

It’s just like her —

that small dish

of scented soap

at the big cast iron

kitchen farm sink

for smaller hands



bib overalls

grubby cap

in the fancy deli

for a pizza slice

sits with tourists

he once sawmilled

boards for me and I

haven't seen him in years

I said hello how you been are

you taking a break?

a break from what?

from work

I don’t know...are

you taking a break?


from what?

from work

Bob Arnold

Sunday, March 29, 2020


Back Road Chalkie
R O B E R T      F R O S T
Spring 2020

Saturday, March 28, 2020


Roots and Branches

      Sail, Monarchs, rising and falling

orange merchants in spring's flowery markets!

messengers of March in warm currents of news floating,

      flitting into areas of aroma.

tracing out of air unseen roots and branches of sense

      I share in thought,

filaments woven and broken where the world might light

      casual certainties of me. There are

      echoes of what I am in what you perform

this morning. How you perfect my spirit!

      almost restore

an imaginary tree of the living in all its doctrines

      by fluttering about,

intent and easy as you are, the profusion of you!

awakening transports of an inner view of things.

Robert Duncan
The Collected Later Poems and Plays
edited with an introduction by Peter Quartermain
U Cal Press, 2019

Put your good hands into the good hands of Peter Quartermain's
guidance through the later world of Duncan, fertile ground

Friday, March 27, 2020


                                                                   Tom Brenner/Reut
Donald Trump rose to power with the determined assistance of a movement that denies science, bashes government and prioritized loyalty over professional expertise. In the current crisis, we are all reaping what that movement has sown.
                          T H E     N E W     Y O R K    T I M E S    27 March 2020


My favorite of all Hrabal books
Whenever I want to go to masters of the
very short text (or the longest)
I head to eastern Europe ~~~
whether Peter Handke and his gemstone
A Sorrow Beyond Dreams
or here with Bohumil Hrabal's
All My Cats
read astonished

Thursday, March 26, 2020



This is the design, cover photograph, and overall
Philip Whalen while alive book I fell for
over 50 years and I still hold it close to my heart.
I'm more than grateful that the good folks at Wave Books
have reissued the masterpiece, with this cover photo
as frontispiece at least, and an afterword
by David Brazil.

(Wave Books, 2020)

Wednesday, March 25, 2020


Jesus Cooks

Jesus saw the multitudes were hungry

and He said, Oh Lord,

send down a short-order cook.

And the Lord said, Abracadabra.

Jesus took the fish,

a slim green baby,

in His right hand and said, Oh Lord,

and the Lord said,

Work on the sly

opening boxes of sardine cans.

And he did.

Fisherman, fisherman,

you make it look easy.

And lo, there were many fish.

Next Jesus held up a loaf

and said, Oh Lord,

and the Lord instructed Him

like an assembly-line baker man,

a Pied Piper of yeast,

and lo, there were many.

Jesus passed among the people

in a chef's hat

and they kissed His spoons and forks

and ate well from invisible dishes.


Anne Sexton
The Book of Folly
Houghton Mifflin

Tuesday, March 24, 2020



R E A D      M E

Miscellany Presented In Reply To
Scholar Lou About To Leave For Huainan

I was sent far away to enjoy life alone

who would have guessed I would meet an old friend

taking pity on broken wings with kind words

soothing ragged fins with life-saving water

our feelings as colleagues haven't changed

but the joys of companionship are new

wandering without a goal wasting time

immune to the pains of spring dancing drunk

even if the pleasures of wind and moon have ceased

the stars and frost we've shared has brought us closer

treating fame as a calamity

we chose the Tao for our neighbor

our schemes were roof tiles in a storm

our suspicions simply misperceptions

wearing an official's hat I still write poems

despite your poverty you still carry a sword

suddenly our parting is today

this happy time won't come again

what is it that's dragging you off

my spirit is leaving with you on the river

I'll have to console my shadow on this side of Heaven

what can I do on that stream to the west

what can I do alone but go fishing

Liu Tsung-Yuan
translated by Red Pine
Written in Exile
Copper Canyon Books