by phillipw | Nov 3, 2019 | PO
A Single Finger One single finger pointing to a God, That sign is what a poem ought to be. A sonnet is a temple’s carved facade And offers formal serendipity, A mystic insight from a hand scab marked By Christ’s stigmata. Francis made that rhyme. His...
by phillipw | Nov 2, 2019 | FL, WH
My Aunt Jeanette was Beautiful like like a Hollywood Glamor Queen and my Mother Wanted to Wear Jungle Gardenia The taste of Florida sunshine, its smells And colors, orange blossoms against green Leaves, evergreen in sunlight, wetly swells...
by phillipw | Nov 2, 2019 | MA
Never Mind The Marxists called the slaughter in the camps Of deep freeze Russia “detours.” What they meant Was grandiloquent History has small cramps Made up of murdered millions. Its ascent Is massive and its purpose is as calm As grey philosophers...
by phillipw | Nov 2, 2019 | MA, Uncategorized, WH
La Serenissima Surprise We thought her color wasn’t blue. We went To Venice then and suddenly we knew The truth. We learned that she was always meant To find the right ensemble of a blue So subtle that its lace and velvets showed Up several colors—blue of...
by phillipw | Nov 2, 2019 | LO, RO
“Do We Really Need the Moon?” [The title of a programme about science on BBC 4 television] Our madnesses are necessary for Romance and yet they loom in us sometimes, A waxing that becomes too much—and more— A full moon magnified by mist and crimes Of one...
