by phillipw | Dec 30, 2019 | AA, KO, MU
A-ak A-ak—one of three forms of ancient Korean court music Now think of things that have no connection With you, or almost none. A-ak measures From eons past, beyond resurrection, Those notes and rhythms that once were treasures Of thin...
by phillipw | Dec 30, 2019 | PL
It Is Hard; and Conract Killers–a Sonnet Biquence It’s hard to say if AIDS or gayness should Be made to go away. If we kill AIDS, The innocent will be protected: good Women and kids could be saved by crusades To wipe it out. Like Hitler we could try To...
by phillipw | Dec 30, 2019 | DR
The Claws of Dreams I wonder what the claws of dreams would sound Like if recoded by some instrument That scientists can use, one that they found Abandoned in a corner of God’s tent. He didn’t need it once He learned His mind Could pry into our deepest...
by phillipw | Dec 30, 2019 | DE, JO, PR
Josquin des Prez Polyphony of beauty and of voice Without obscuring instrumental sound Made churches of the Renaissance rejoice And made Josquin des Prez’s chansons bound From palaces to houses of the whores. But where is Josquin now? He carved his name...
by phillipw | Dec 30, 2019 | PO
I Will Pin a Poem Upon my shroud I’ll pin a line before I pass away, the best one that I wrote In all my life. I’m sure that it, not more, Will be enough to get me past the moat Of paradise. I’ll show it to the guard There on the bank. He’ll signal to the...
by phillipw | Dec 30, 2019 | SW
Consider the Swan after Sunset Consider how the swan lifts up his wings Above his pinion shape while gliding on The River Thames at Windsor. Athelings Were never quite so handsome in the dawn Of England’s whiteless history (so full Of scarlet slaughter). Not that...
by phillipw | Dec 30, 2019 | LI
Stone Town Markers, Markets Bronze Livingstone is specked with pigeon shit And thousands walk across his abbey tomb His London grave, tourists, heedless of it. A few might think of liberty’s slow bloom In Africa where slavery died its long And lingering death. They...
by phillipw | Dec 30, 2019 | AE, BE, TR
Why Poems are Doomed to Fail Exactly why are poems doomed to fail? What guarantees the stillbirth of their hopes? Because the ones with breasts in them are pale As holograms beside those truthful slopes, The beauty that an ogee would capture, If only it could? Might...
