Wednesday, September 30, 2009

week six

write a poem in response to, or upon reflection of, an image you find at flickr - 7 days.

to challenge yourself, try to use one of the nine images on the very first page; avoid hitting the reload button!


  1. fight or flight

    mine is to row among beasts
    the rest wicked and rummaging
    below the surface

    where man once triumphant
    slain the last horse to stay warm
    and married himself

    into a lonely despair
    without faith or worse
    without spirit and drunken

    his stoop became bare
    so here he is left alone
    with a device as simple

    and unforgiving as his imagination
    fueled with the renewable half life
    of old hardback novels


    Hands on the needles

    Soon they've knitted
    a gunny sack

    A pair of socks or a
    giant bag

    There's no telling
    once the fingers wag

    I must've been seven
    on the Vancouver ferry

    when I saw a woman on it
    knitting in a flurry

    looking straight ahead
    instead of looking down

    I asked her how she did it
    and she said without a frown

    "I live in a lighthouse
    and I have to keep a lookout

    for boats on the rocks
    so I learned to knit without


  3. a pebble carried across the beach
    listens to the rolling waves

    certain she was your Chateau
    swells the heart within one's villa

    a rose to the camera lens
    stare at the geese above

    wolf down the flows of wine
    while gleaming starlight touches the bay

    yearning lies in the glistening tide


    july thirteenth. ten p.m. dear tomas:
    i spent the whole day on my back.
    does it please you to know i am not ill
    or fucking old charles, who still comes
    to dale hollow with that irish wolfhound?
    today i went out to the water’s edge,
    laid supine on the paint-peeled boards,
    and splayed my limbs wide on the pier.
    i longed for you to look in on me
    like god or a google earth satellite.

  5. Is this what your insides look like?
    deep down grinning beauty
    but brittle and colorless all the same?
    your stereo crackles with wind
    in its hollows, this you're ok with.
    so we went apple picking yesterday,
    me putting them on and you plucking
    them off, then slept so warm
    in the tall grass that I
    thought the sun was there.