Friday, June 5, 2009
conflagrations, ruins, scenes of spectacular carnage
All poets adore explosions, thunderstorms, tornadoes, conflagrations, ruins, scenes of spectacular carnage. The poetic imagination is not at all a desirable quality in a statesman.
"The Poet & The City," W. H. Auden
[Underneath Blue Line, Damen Avenue below North Avenue]
- ► 2011 (107)
- ► 2010 (115)
- no light will project them
- the waitress turns kitchenward, her ankle blooms w...
- the eerie brightness of nighttime
- what you gotta do is play your own simple blues
- a wild ragged figure motioning him to turn around ...
- voices instead of colors
- quietly obscene
- in silence the heart
- now is, all there is
- but a dream
- the universe will soon
- sincere and lilting tone
- desperate enough just to do anything
- as close to their reflections
- spring breeze
- conflagrations, ruins, scenes of spectacular carna...
- the moment of a yawn
- I want to walk like I'm the only woman on earth an...
- rounded with a sleep
- night breeze
- ▼ June (23)