by phillipw | Feb 25, 2020 | RE, RI
Our National Poet Living in London and then at 165 King’s Road, Reading? More nights in London than in Paris—and Rimbaud lived in Berkshire, too; in Reading 165 King’s Road, Reading, where Rimbaud lived and worked He wrote prose poems and free verse, not bland,...
by phillipw | Jan 22, 2020 | FO, RE
The Fox Last night the fox we feed in bowls behind Our house came just at twelve. His long, thick tail Was bushier than last time and defined By snow that had been falling in the veil Of winter for white hours. He took out His chunks of food and one...
by phillipw | Jan 2, 2020 | RE
And Don’t Let Gilding Trick You The great ones come to us in rock: the law At Moses’ side, the wounds in marble, slight, White holes in marble in la Pietà Of Jesus and the Virgin, and that tight Black thing, the kaabaa. All of them, these three, This trinity of...
by phillipw | Jan 1, 2020 | RE
Library Dukedom “library/Was dukedom large enough” ~ Prospero Who needs to be a prince or King of kings? A library’s dukedom is large enough. A single folio transports on wings Of mind: within one moment we can slough Off heavy circumstance and...
by phillipw | Dec 10, 2019 | RE
Trinities The Christ is loved the way a world is loved. His crucifixion fires up God’s high seat; We have to handle Him, asbestos-gloved, Where Moses’ beard cascades to nail-pierced feet. There mercy lights it, through them, from...
by phillipw | Dec 8, 2019 | RE, SE
Blood Vessels Filled with Something like Crucified Hydrogen The tree put up its barren limbs, the church Its barren cross, a duet set in gray— The branches notes, the cross a chord in search Of something certain; well, more certain, say, Than...
