:: Poetry ::

A small virtual workshop
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:: Thursday, February 27, 2003 ::

Okay, I've been slapping my back with spruce branches for my recalcitrance. Josh, I hate you, but congratulations. I like to think that simply by knowing bright, talented people I will either osmotically improve my own stuff or be moved by possible isolation into the doesn't-have-a-book-yet-but-still-publishes-one-now-and-then-in-The-Onion-Fucker to get it going on.

In any case, I'm getting at yours soon, Sean. Josh, onward and upward.

:: Paul 2/27/2003 08:33:00 AM [+] ::
:: Tuesday, February 25, 2003 ::
Just thought I'd let you all know that our friend Josh's book _No Planets Strike_ is forthcoming from Zoo Press. Now, who's next?
:: Sean 2/25/2003 11:26:00 AM [+] ::
:: Monday, February 24, 2003 ::
If any of you boys is still alive, I sure would like some help with this. Love, Sean

Looking at the Window
"How you say Jack, 'you look at the window'?"
"In this case Bob, you do say that."
-- from Down by Law

In the movie, the Italian murderer--sad, beautiful,
and new to English--draws a child-like image
on the cement walls of the jail cell--an open window,
lines of chalk looking out to nothing.

The sorrow and beauty of poetry is just this:
the window, dust collecting on the panes,
smudges of prints of the people who lived
here before, the knife of sun trying its way

into the darkened room and my morning,
me scratching at the cold shards of snow
on the landing with a dollar store broom,
imagining you in the arms of the other man

his laughter filling the slick halls with yours,
and my afternoon in this office of gray walls
and cinder block with no window to let light in
or out, all of this gentle construction of paper

and ink, lovely lines to cut along, might be false.
In the world outside this window of paper
it could be me lying in the arms of someone new
laughing the words of a favorite song and not you.
:: Sean 2/24/2003 12:00:00 PM [+] ::

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