tumblr feminists are some creepy little girls
- Oh But, He is so Accomplished. And so Liked!
- And by extension…?
* * *
Pan is dad. Great Pan is dad.
* * **
Up and down the fractal
Nature is some kind of nature
Standing in the outward ray
We speak of ambitions
We men of the finer cloth
We men with homesickness in our blood
To fly into the sun behind the sun
Plan our return as the prodigal sons
For now splintered, here and not
Will be again
King and Country,
the first music I heard leaving
the sewers - a luminous, new world!
I see a mudcrab on the shore,
and fight it with my bare hands.
All hesitation left the boy’s little face turned stern
where he stood, some walk away from the crowd,
with his hands in little fists kept in
his shorts pockets. How could one forget his being
there (if he was at all) with his curious, heart-
shaped face, and the thoughts that went with him
like little white birds — the shine upon
his slightly upturned nose, his sandals
buckled, hair neatly combed.
got a poem up on squawk back
"Everyone believes we’re doomed, only not really. If you really believe you’re doomed, then why not live every day as if it were the last, and savor the small moments and pleasures of life. Instead, we have individuals making their lives an extended flirtation with disaster on an hourly basis. All we have left is doom. So, the good news is, we’re doomed"
my good friend, Paul Bingham, in an interview wherein he talks about his new book, Down Where The Devil Don’t Go, published earlier this year by Nine-Banded Books. thanks for the plug, Paul.
purchase a copy of the book on Amazon, here.
an excerpt from a chapbook I recently co-authored, Unchecked Privileges, or I’ve Got To Sing a Torch Song, is up on Hobart today.
you can purchase the book for download here.