by phillipw | May 14, 2020 | LO, MA, PA, RO
Edgar Allan Poe was Wrong The perfect poem is about the death Of perfect beauty. That is what glum Poe Asserts, an ivory-like release of breath From some Evangeline, a sigh like snow From some expressive woman’s breast and lips. Do you suspect he meant a young one...
by phillipw | May 12, 2020 | AR, MO, PA
Art Why photograph a fact when you can catch A nightmare, be a Jackson Pollock or A Dalí at his Druid weirdest? Snatch A depth of fanged subconscious and then pour Some paint of guts across your canvas. Real Is boring. Ditch it. Art becomes mirage...
by phillipw | May 12, 2020 | AN, AR, CH, HE, LO, PA, SE
Lucifer and the Other Multi-winged Ones, Seraphim and Cherubim “The deep lunges, forehead pressed to forehead, witnesses to rise and fall of chest and ever expanding wings.” ~ Jaime Mathis, “Blood Blister,” It Rises and Falls Those angels making love before the fall,...
by phillipw | May 9, 2020 | LU, PA
Stronger than a Scimitar-like Serenade His words spread there across my senses, red Across my hearing like a scarlet sheet Of lightning, red across the thorn sliced head Of Jesus, redder than his blood on feet Oozed out from spikes. The words spread out there in My...
by phillipw | May 7, 2020 | PA
Passionless Cut The bitterest things are clear. I can see right Through you. The empty bed is just as clear As you are. Cyanide is pure and white, More pure than bed sheets, even empty sheer Ones, those unstained by absence. Stains are what You have not left in...
by phillipw | May 7, 2020 | BO, DR, JO, LA, PA, PH, WE, WH, WI
Recurring, Not Forgotten Florida Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem The childhood cosmos that returns in dreams Is full of butter suns, smooth, yellow, bright. The light is not like melting candy creams...
