SEE ALL TAGS & MOODS
This is our welfare half
a duplex with mint green
siding shrugged between
Let’s say the fix was in. Let’s say history, Being human and thus short on ideas, Made change from an old bag of tricks. Say this
Who is this black coat and tie?
Christian severity etched in the lines
he draws from his mouth. Clearly a noble man
who believes in work and mission. See
how he rises from the red velvet chair,
It is never easy
Walking with an invisible border
Separating my left and right foot
Your best friend falls in love
and her brain turns to water.
You can watch her lips move,
Where is the word I want?
Groping
in the thicket,
60s pulled us from starvation into government jobs
antiquated Indians in Saskatchewan danced for rain
Manitoba Indian doings were hidden for a jealous
the re-invention of oneself
through the tongues of whispering mountains
the re-arrangement of the universe
These poems, these poems,
these poems, she said, are poems
with no love in them. These are the poems of a man
What horror to awake at night
and in the dimness see the light.
…
Backward & down into inbetween as Vicki says. Or as Robin teaches
the gap, from which all things emerge. A left
handed…
More than a storey high and twice that long,
it looks igneous, the Buhler Versatile 2360,
possessed of the ecology of some …
1
In view of the fading animals
the proliferation of sewers and fears
Writing is inhibiting. Sighing, I sit, scribbling in ink
this pidgin script. I sing with nihilistic witticism,
disciplining signs with trifling gimmicks — impish
They flee from me that sometime did me seek
With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.
I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; —
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
I am the people — the mob — the crowd — the mass.
Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me?
I am the workingman, the inventor, the maker of the world’s food and clothes.
Pavement slipp’ry, people sneezing,
Lords in ermine, beggars freezing;
Titled gluttons dainties carving,
There, Robert, you have kill’d that fly — ,
And should you thousand ages try
The life you’ve taken to supply,
Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
“A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
Me it sucked first, and now sucks thee,
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
