by phillipw | Oct 15, 2019 | BO, CH, ST
Miniaturized Trees in Tiny Pots at 3501 New York Avenue, NE, Washington, D. C. To thrill his body never could have been The fact, much less the metaphor, of love. That’s not what love is anyhow. Between Us was full-blooded sympathy above That sort of...
by phillipw | Oct 15, 2019 | CH, ST
London Russian Orthodox Cathedral of the Dormition of the Mother of God and the Royal Martyrs … An onion dome with golden stars and cross Still rises high above my sad blue eyes. The eight-point shapes increase the blue, emboss The blue and...
by phillipw | Oct 14, 2019 | CH, ST
Chuck on the Topic of the Pain I Caused Him by Leaving Him so I Could Go “Live” in Edinburgh with my Wife “ ’Twould have been much neater if you could have conveniently died.” ~ Charles Randall Stanfield in a letter to Phillip Whidden mailed March 13, 1986 and...
by phillipw | Oct 14, 2019 | CH, DE, LO, MO, ST
My Menu in Hades My life is bitter now or it has lost Its flavour, maybe both, because it seems To be a sour fruit that’s sliced and tossed Away. It falls upon a pile of dreams I used to have (or maybe I just guessed Those dreams existed). It’s so hard to prove...
by phillipw | Oct 14, 2019 | CH, LO, ST, UN
“From Thy Dead Lips” There’s just a hollowness that has your smell Around it—like an aura of the sins We never did together. This shell, Its fan form, waits, on shores where death begins (If death can righteously be said to mark A start). The light around this...
by phillipw | Oct 14, 2019 | CH, LO, ST
Sheer as an Anchorite Sacred to St. Bartholomew He came, a supplicant. His votive flame Was love. He held it up above the black Of curls he worshiped. Purity, not shame, Is what he had to proffer, nothing slack Or stained, because the black was utter. Up He...
