by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | TR
Veils When trees begin to pale with leaves or bloom, The first effect seems like a stretched gauze haar, A tailored fitting from the hidden loom Which spins this morning mist (distinct and far Removed from deaths). It corresponds with dawn. Then...
by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | Ta
Madame de la Châtre, Ally of the Duc d’Orleans “Her virtue wasn’t of the sort that men Found depressing.” In the oil portrait by Vigée Le Brun no hint of Magdalene The sinner smears the oils. No winking, sly Insinuation that madame was like The bishop of Autun,...
by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | DE, MO
Little Tips of Putrefaction on Some Petals Three leaves fall. The oak seems undiminished In grandeur. Four peonies are dying Back in yellow. Brown acorns have finished Their suicides for life. A hawk, flying His shiver on the sky, is unconcerned With symbol,...
by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | BR, KE, ST
So Keats was Wrong So Keats was wrong: a star is not so firm Or steadfast as a lover’s sonnet yearns For it to be. In fact, his urgent sperm Was probably more loyal and his tears For Fanny Brawne more strident than two bright, Twin stars. Besides, some stars...
by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | RO
The Rose Without a Name The orange rose hangs on. It does not know (Though orange as its vanished mates since June And through the whole mild summer) that its glow Supposedly belongs to things that swoon To death in autumn. Never having seen The fall, its...
