by phillipw | May 13, 2020 | AU, DE
The Fall I think that I will be an autumn leaf In dying. I will turn to blowing red And glowing amber. Yellow’s autumn grief Will sublimate me like a glistening dread. October skies of vivifying blue And indigo November afternoons Will only serve to...
by phillipw | May 13, 2020 | AN, GA, HE, LO, MO, PE, RO, ST
The Hardened Dog with a Raisin Bun in its Mouth in PompeiiModern poetry modern verse Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem se modern poem contemporary The saddest little things come down to us From ancient...
by phillipw | May 13, 2020 | IN, PR, VI
Alexander the Great Had No Inkling of Precious Christian Virtues When Burma was unknown, it furnished true Red, rubies brought to Alexander’s court. It was as if an incensed goddess threw The gems from mystery, sent gems athwart The deserts from the depths of...
by phillipw | May 12, 2020 | MO
I Defy You to Listen to “Music” by Jean Barraqué and Not be Nauseated The centuries just before our current one Decided to experiment with form In all the arts. This sea change had begun With poetry. The Rimbauds caused a storm Along with Whitman and vers libre...
by phillipw | May 12, 2020 | PO, TR
Oral Poems from the Past Conservative as brocade velvet, verse, The older forms, embraces in its folds The ancient tongues, the peoples’ tongues. They’re terse In ballades. Such rigidity upholds The thinking of the folk as if a starch Were added to the richness...
by phillipw | May 12, 2020 | AG, CH, DE, MO, ST
Human Sorrow is Pathetic Five years of death are not so long, although The first was black like Satan’s mind when he Was falling, Lucifer no longer. No Light then coming from him as the spree Of darkened angels hurtled hobbled to Their doom, their eyeballs roasted by...
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 | CO, DE, DR, LO, RO
I was a Prophet without Mouth and Tongue “skin redolent with unspoken kisses” ~ Jaime Mathis, “Passion,” It Rises and Falls His skin and veins were pocked. Cocaine had left Its scab-like potholes and ruined entry Attempts like craters, scarred up ones. The heft Of...
