The Prospect, Lackadaisical

this verse is a strayed hope wherein I'll, dismantled, dwell, unenthralled, and like the moon aloof, and with obscured glee, upon space raised huge by pines, spelling, alphabetically, the skies

The Conversation of Eiros and Charmion

62* 14 -14** 6* 35 10** 8**/ Lyre 22 / Night __ 56** 19 44* * = circled or boxed ** = crossed out with diagonal line

Distick

urn by its cell does air shell melody gone hoarse with application to ev'ry arcady

Re: The Conversation of Eiros and Charmion

Thanks!

Up in the clouds you lost sight of your lawful height

vamose, thunder-bolt, you've claimed naught but blue bells at your sport unexceptional as poesy, the shepherdess practices yet her golden elude -- with no blue bells to clasp, would she then gather the asphodels you proffer, pressing coldest colors to her breast?

Verses that softer spring from their cottony chapter

spring, verse, your tune's train borne by no retinue -- were your echoes to rest, your face yards dark, what darker night could Jove throw? unless diminishment, why, echoes were copies ever and unless diminishment, echoes were mimicry ever rhymed satyrs ( the rest of that in- corporeal

By whose command are your shipwrecks, Portrait of Virginia as among the Sirens?

whenever kindred they show their top for else they show their beneath: Apis virginiana to us, bees are kcnanck abroad wasps are olibanum hath Romantic peep chirp when wasps attend shaken salt, or as wasps, ulterior, would chirp the matter (when salt's spilled), Virginia goes out to the rocks

Daphnis and Chloe, or, You and Yours

where are the empires, the chattel, and where their chief, chief also of the proud frown Chronos forgot in astonishment at Daphnis and Chloe perennially chancing His midnight sweep?

The vistas in our heads are as above our toes as 1, 2, 3

1. YOUR KNEES (,VIRGINIA) you'd have yourself echoed millionly for our stars, Virginia, rubber-stamped daily nightly, decked with crystal dew? 2. THE SKIES done!, since the recent sum of human reflection on Sthenno's decor has, Virginia, crystallined you many, companioned wide! your

Re: I practiced these sands, the freshest crowns

I do know Emily Dickinson's poem We play at Paste - but I haven't consciously thought of it until you were kind enough to remind me of it. Perhaps it was in my mind as I wrote the poem. I did deliberately allude to the closing lines of a Dickinson poem (I died for beauty) in my January 2005 poem

H: St. John Chapter Eight, Verse Six Eight

ST. JOHN CHAPTER EIGHT, VERSE SIX whether warm or growing to wave warmth aside, beast, you'll ever http://www.artunframed.com/images/new_art3/The_Grief_of_the_Pasha.jpg http://www.artunframed.com/images/new_art3/The_Grief_of_the_Pasha.jpg

Neaera's Demise, Upon Reaching for a Cluster of Grapes

these grapes, mantled buoyant by the vine, are, though immarmoreal, classic? yes, they look the shape - her body the maid drops with such haste they seem to fly heliconward, dashed into antiquity, from her gravitating hand

I practiced these sands, the freshest crowns

I've sleeping for a book, — serenely desert, and I'm, with the sands, in sleep, and in sleep I'm sand how could anyone be ready for that verse tablet when sands and maids readily amaze, and on which side glint my Virginia triggers? the verse or the sands? do the sands — wait — 160,000 maidens

Center of the Star is a Larger Lantern

moon haunting more and well the same road where a pair of amblers dream of a start and finish to interruption tho many a moonlight and seraph tumble from the sky, the amblers can say of it there's one tree that's never shed a leaf O! they dream of a start and stop to this space, that,

The Warmth of Your Expectation Has Turned This Poem to Ashes

or, less figuratively, to a blur, or, more literally, the warmth has turned / this poem to you're the most steep, seeing the steepest has flashed is long done

Monumental

when asked the breath of those words poetry escorts still you show slumbers, graven image, as though Anacreon's your oblivion, and these silences come from no other courier's hand

Note

Monumental is two lines, with the break after the word image when asked the breath of those words poetry escorts still you show slumbers, graven image, as though Anacreon's your oblivion, and these silences come from no other courier's hand

G: St. John Chapter Eight, Verse Six Eight

ST. JOHN CHAPTER EIGHT, VERSE SIX who knows yesterday's gossamer? none other than Jeff Harrison! his strength is up with gossamer dust, yet the sloth he mistrusts, and thus another gossamer branch the sloth does clutch ST. JOHN CHAPTER EIGHT, VERSE EIGHT gossamer too, but a knave, dawn

And now refers only to Lethe's prancing ripple

wake, calmed roses, rove so widely, you who once kept close to ground, for this is a large heaven for little fades in some far corner is the poet (her blue words, these days, silvery upon ivy) who referred to you as evening's wheat

Pocket Assyrian

Adad- / narari did not, / Adad-narari, / make himself - / any / more than the dragon did make herself make ready Adad-narari did not / make himself entirely Adad-narari / or an impost- / or to be Adad-narari entirely were to sleep / and / so study / and / so learn entirely Adad-narari /

Versers, the fire they follow across hoof-patted pastures

an unutt'VERSE'rable show'VERSE'r next will perhaps suit some other alas your crackles descend to their due (d - u - e) goal (i.e., Ms. Virginia) (let me drop / to this line -- i.e., Ms. Virginia, she'VERSE's neighb'VERSE'ring human imagines ere now ill to modulation) to harp their own cares /

Appius Claudius Prevented From Ascension By 160 Virginias

Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia Virginia

Hereafter Do Away With Soft Our Dreadful Fills

bread is artificial, beef natural - unless bread tumbles from the heavens into hands aloft held by fashioned meat, then bread's as soon a harp in the hand of that meat- hair- sprinkled gentleman, Chimaeras Verser, by night sky his eye can spot only giants whom he believes are hospitable to such

Hears Wasted On The Hears You Smoothened

long phantoms on short nights, thine prayers have mine as full heirs your destined woe shaken-out unveiled portions your destiner must've ordered http://www.ncf.ca/~ek867/annaakhmatova.jpg Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve: the break of day severs limbs and portions that were caught inside

D: St. John Chapter Eight, Verse Six Eight

ST. JOHN CHAPTER EIGHT, VERSE SIX murkiest of cards, she's down, humanist, no, put no footprints where flies'll sea you (confer Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam), put none (beneath their spill, lichen have razzle carry tree leafy to letters) where flies'll sea you, murkiest of cards, hanging off the

Act IV, Scene VI: The Tephromancer's Columbarium

IN THE MIDDLE OF THINGS (where else?): sweeter from me, weepst her Jove, is the rose blowzy in the lulled snow Sainte-Beuve: blowzy rose means a rose open fully, where it's heavy and slightly ratty-looking, lulled snow means snow that is no longer cold. a blanket of snow in the absolute

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Fancy Litter of Melancholy (i.e., Pathless Resemblance)

http://www.onelook.com/?w=*loc=revfp2clue=mother+the+blur+and+brutish+feet+ http://cgfa.sunsite.dk/c/chirico1.jpg mother the blur and brutish feet (this is grovel's gait) the thence stared thy thee temples, stared thee (you, you cast cypress in the role of tare) at thy THEA temples

C: St. John Chapter Eight, Verse Six Eight

ST. JOHN CHAPTER EIGHT, VERSE SIX a hare to pace seeds upon a prize as a foot upon the earth is unrewarded as fingers in a shoe (glass slipper, but, rewards the viewer) ST. JOHN CHAPTER EIGHT, VERSE EIGHT as any foot upon the earth is Virginia unrewarded as fingers in a shoe, as that

The Echoing Green, My Piping Stains The Water Clear

me, I'm piping happy to be mirrored in complaint, like a dove that drops a seed to a drowning man: a live sign with cruel loves, a calvary volleying and thundering into another's, greensward, dream --- with a show so vast is a green charm assured only to the green eye? vast as black, as blue,

Brisk Hours In The Wide Woods

rose dies to words, the stem rises to Virginia's height this lyre with no hide, before or behind, will meet every delight so I read in The Virginia Triggers and I imagined, lacking a picture, a lyre was a sceptre there, in my picture, bloom, as nyctohylophobes grow savage when afar of night,

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Re: ALLELUIA MONKS!

An excellent poem! I love that book curse - I recall seeing a variant of it in a library when I was a wee lad, and thinking - There's literature everywhere in this place! Suddenly even the EXIT sign looked like some kind of minimalist poem! ALLELUIA MONKS! The Bridgemaster and Telchine, O

World weighty with skies? No, world weighty with all in heaps the foul lyres

this is a windfall for you, Biblical daughter - a personal plea for BROWN MERCURY, for America scroll provided by BROWN MERCURY my personal plea to you, Biblical daughter, was met with not compliance, nor outright refusals, but with your anecdote of a Korean map-maker who omitted America from

The way this poem's laid out, Appius Claudius has the last word

they had good cheer, those feudal barons enigmas of (not to) one another — cheeriest of all was Whippingcane Sam, that open book (tho with only two pages exposed), whose castrato would often belt out Casanova was a fortunate man, for such an unusual Orfeo the lyrics to Casanova Was A Fortunate

Surely, You Shall Hear from Seventy-five more Sainte-Beuves

a well well well to all, especially those who crouched behind tiers of horse hair - (remind me to finally write my poem The 77 Books of Hair, where books of hair, 77 in #, are bales of hair like hay bales) over 3/4ths of all possible (well, all plausible) Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuves in the

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Ma Virginia, Her House Brute's Dowry Speech

who, however good-hearted, shall be just as me, out of spite, while my groans — what wind is this, what page is this, this wind that turns this page? — mar her boasts that I'm tamed? who's spying on our good time?, she'll wink to the audience, she pleases so she lies when she claims I envieth

B: St. John Chapter Eight, Verse Six Eight

Readers, the liberty which I take in addressing to you the trifling production of a few idle hours, will doubtless move your wonder and probably your contempt I will not, however, with the futility of apologies, intrude upon your time, but briefly acknowledge the motives of my temerity lest by

Upon reading the word letter in Cowper's The Progress Of Error

I don't remember when I first read the word letter I don't remember when I first heard the word dawn I don't remember when I first heard the word crevice I don't remember when I first heard the word many I don't remember when I first heard the word branch I don't remember when I first read the

Insisting a waighty vioage for All Cent Susan Circus Know

old Herr Bibliothekarius, my dear friend he was, where is he now? All Cent Susan Circus Know: you, Herr Bibliothekarius, are Herr Bibliothekarius, none but Herr Bibliothekarius, as you've always been, here, Herr Bibliothekarius, Herr Bibliothekarius, why you ask me for your dear friend? Herr

Oranges in a tree, they speak of the royal view

dreary roses,,, Cupid's adorn, dreary panorama bluebells dart, repose, hardier poppies,,, what's scattered remai ns mimic of Virginia's yellow woes yellow? yes, yellow with,,, meadows

in the palace, not a piece is left ___________ of Occasion's mad altar

thou vain _ as the owl is vain, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, come to _ the hills, human w/ lyres, for, below, crystal devils _ in palaces starve your amazed mourns _ -- yes, starved, as Elisha's she-bears never _

When The Fox Outlives Virginia, Where Then Will He Go?

to safe the dew from the sun those brief kings're stretched into cakes these sweets are near, gently dressed, for the Thorn's Holiday from the rose, oh, no more roses in Virginia's cheeks? now the roses are gone you can see the fox in her cheeks runs, shiny-eyed panting, from end to end,

Opalescent Familiarization

gunter (creak) glieben glauten globen (creak) R. H. Raven Toes, fanciest pan the ist, has creak ed too, him har rowing (har risonian) rupture d darkest hap haz / liz ard Sybil - SHE*, mon .u. mental .ly. crrr ritique, plunges in- to what you, apologetic rustlers morose as

the NEST of the damp star, brightest of the 12 in VIRGINIA constellation

the twelve branches of SHIPWRECK... wilderness these to me as I wilderness to these twelve branches (branches as in chapters, for this writing, but in my brain branches are the branches of some titanic tree) of swift standing bones a lots has been cremating, of the dozen whose Inferno is

Two unlettered beasts, at the riverbank, behold their numbered brows

brayed Adam braying, recommended Adam of King's tear-full, every mimicky bird art thou, world-intolerable son to what daylight done, yes!, Virginia's hardly the only dust, my good thee, that would flesh herself to your back foot rather than turn a lachrymose face to words patiently roasted,

Zero is the skull of Number, said Wm Hare to Wm Burke

scratching up looks, why abashed so? you fear of shades their impious features? it's meat, as the rose (listen! it's the mention, sans verses, of the rose), that invites the cut not the wondered dead, faultless royal, their unbudded hearts soon blooded have we more crimson here, than they pasted

That Human Air Without Noon

how shines!, Virginia, shepherdess pale herdless, stray'd from pastures to waves of wilderness so bright this eve it's Noon overgrown the very stars bark as they rise at you their bleat is the wolf's one implores your sleeplessness why, air'll labyrinth her, same as us... deserted by bites...

Savage Minutes of Kings, Frayed Crimson

Caesar's my me if Caesar's quick, but Caesar lies in wait for signals and ends stale but will be featured freshly I'll flinch, and propose this for myself -- do, Luxury!, this for Virginia as well as syllable-mammoth me, doom-cold poison-quick dispatched, a golden Caesar, -- Cook, Cook, season

Bright Chanticleer Proclaims The Dawn, Spangles Deck The Morn

me anew; anew my place, anew my makes my place make afraid, flowers, birds, you, ink, breaks (dime) will hurt your birds, as Greeks're broken so're mine from my My lines perfect the again, lyre, die, -- Science Fiction Book Club,

Thru amidst the ffffffffffffffffffffff arrives the crowfield shepherd

morsels of clothes streaked with luscious oughts an America of garments below the puppet heap king harlequin (buildings leaping legs) has no popcorn so he wages war with the crows in the cornfield sign up the shepherd (ff is a glass tunnel or is a cat saying the words glass

This is another face of the art in earth

I'll not waste this short silence on a dull round of prey wildly islanded, abandoned clear to which animal the poet died to produce / pray torn essays instead above than rocks to mountain us dull rounds of prey too from falling mists my far me far from some praised bite, rather a moisture and

Darker sleeps this dusky heaven heaps

love, song, the a-loves lips not pour: time, but words green o'er gaze, envying the headlong by the deep; not cloven are infant spectres awake the race inherit springs till life, of fall, airs, sail; meet how soon,— when — slow meet: its skies; and words love's be,—