Ninety-nine point nine percent is plastered with the words upon the page but the last point one is kept for me under lock and key and no one else will ever get to see More at https://17numa.wordpress.com/.
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After my mother’s death, her belongings devitalized Her furniture: tables and chairs in a secondhand store Her flatware; somewhat less than service for eight Her clothes: just rags in some cartons for Goodwill Floating lifeless amputated from person place time All wrapped up with some flowers, and a plain pine box A graveside ceremony, a…
In literary criticism, we remember the great practitioners by their errors and blind spots. Samuel Johnson dismissed Milton’s “Lycidas” — perhaps the greatest elegy in English literature — as artificial and insincere. T. S. Eliot introduced the term “objective correlative” in order to judge Hamlet a failure. Yvor Winters thought the world of Elizabeth Daryush,…
The Hamburger Lounge? Yeats loved it there. Eliot, Crane, Whitman, Amy and Robert Lowell, When they wanted hamburgers, they knew where. The Golden Ox on Clybourn used to prepare A fine zwiebelfleisch, served with a roll; But the Hamburger Lounge? Yeats loved it there. He rarely attended the Golden Ox, nor repaired To the old Gripe ‘n’ Groan….
In 1987, Darragh Park did the wraparound cover for the first issue of New American Writing (edited by Maxine Chernoff and Paul Hoover). The magazine had been formerly known as Oink! Here is the front: Related Stories “Christopher Brennan” by John Tranter [Introduced by Thomas Moody] Go to Source Author: The Best American Poetry
Earned back less than given accepting tokens from the king of roadside carnival fair barker takes last dimes for the ride to heaven. The post Pennies on the Dollar | Angelica Fuse appeared first on Best Poetry. Go to Source Author: Best Poetry Online
He rhapsodizes, besotted by lust She beams, rapt by lyrics and rhymes Of baby, sugar, sweetie and honey Now cascading at your feet, eager to love Then without a fuss, you’ve had your fill Your hunger is quenched before hers stirred If this was church, she only heard grace And it was not even chanted…
