Tuesday, September 11, 2012

The Substance

Awash in driving lessons, NBA reading, Scouts, company, and more... So here's a tiny poem from the just-out The Foliate Head (UK: Stanza Press.) Originally published in Angle. More poems here.


Fine as a ring-stole drawn through a hoop
Of gold, but crimped and burned
And almost ruined by some fire
Long ago, far away--
Glimmering like abalone,
Moody and beautiful.

Some things persist as mystery,
No matter how we seek
A raveling, no matter how
We vaunt, no matter how--
Slanting above our lifted faces
Like rain shot through by sun.

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Alas, I must once again remind large numbers of Chinese salesmen and other worldwide peddlers that if they fall into the Gulf of Spam, they will be eaten by roaming Balrogs. The rest of you, lovers of grace, poetry, and horses (nod to Yeats--you do not have to be fond of horses), feel free to leave fascinating missives and curious arguments.