January 27, 2017Trystesse
naught of her here
not a knot of her hair
naught from our year
of a little bit more
naught to adore
not a watt of her dare
and not enough air
anymore
from #54 - Winter 2016
from #54 - Winter 2016
“I want a poem to surprise the ear, the eye, and the ego. I want free verse that attends to rhythm phrase by phrase and a meter that bears imagery as supple as its patterning of sound. I want syntax capable of dynamic apposition, nimble subordination, and arresting fragmentation. I want Eliot’s facility with paradox and Wallace Stevens’ lexicon, Dickinson’s insight, and Marianne Moore’s precision. I want to write as though a little tongue of flame warmed the top of my head.”