by phillipw | Sep 18, 2024 | Uncategorized
The Mind is Not Just Watercolors Washed by Misty Breezes in an Oriental Picture Frame Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem Our consciousness, that thing we call our mind When it is walking wide-eyed in the...
by phillipw | Sep 18, 2024 | Uncategorized
A Disappearing Fact All sins in every place and every time Are sins, not matter what. The sins long past Are hard for us to realize. Each crime That we have not committed like the vast Ones, Buchenwald and Auschwitz, we can not Quite deal with, never...
by phillipw | Sep 18, 2024 | IN
Red Letter Day and South American Spice Today I spooled out sonnets, sonnets, ten Of them, extruding all like plastic knives, Or forks, or spoons. They spilled again, again, Again as boring as Solomon’s wives Became to him, perhaps, each plaything thin As plastic...
by phillipw | Sep 18, 2024 | Uncategorized
Matthew Parris Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem Perhaps you have a favorite columnist Who writes with wit and cleverness about The news. I do. For years he hasn’t missed The most important...
by phillipw | Sep 18, 2024 | Uncategorized
A Little Child Shall Impede Them Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem The mind, says Buddha, waits as blank and mild Before its birth as crystals made of snow. The mind waits flawless, waiting for a child...
