poetry

Anarchy in New York: The Mayhem Continues

As we know the tRump misadministration has - for reasons of its own - declared New York City to be…

4 years ago

A Heap of Broken Images

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say,…

4 years ago

Gertrude Stein: Collage and Code

While T.S.Eliot was skulking about in green face powder, Gertrude Stein was communing with Cubists and inventing linguistic collage. And…

4 years ago

In the Salon with Gertrude Stein

It takes a lot of time to be a genius, you have to sit around so much doing nothing, really…

4 years ago

A Little Called Gertrude Stein

There, there, said the parent to the anguished child whose ice cream fell to the gutter. There! There! said the…

4 years ago

The Fifth Fact

There's a move afoot to rename the ten American military bases named for Confederates No more forts named for the…

4 years ago

Sailing Through This to That

May the tide carry you out beyond the face of fear. Three poems for Sunday. Yesterday it snowed and I…

5 years ago

For Elaine

To a Sewist extraordinaire, with thanks. This is just to say ...  . (Pictures to follow once they have been…

5 years ago

April and Silence: Three and a Bit from Tomas Tranströmer

Politics without mercy, demonic world events, power without responsibility, nature takes flight. National Insecurity The Under Secretary leans forward and…

5 years ago

Gin: Mother’s Milk or Hair Tonic?

One thing always leads to another on the intertubes and this particular ravel started with my friend David Nice. David…

5 years ago

Clearing the Clutter

These days find me busy clearing and chucking, sorting and sifting, storing and saving. Three truck loads of stuff cleared…

5 years ago

Sports Report and the Spots of Time

It's a late afternoon on a winter Saturday of my childhood. And that means the big Ferguson radio - the…

5 years ago

Decomposition

Decomposition I have a picture I took in Bombay of a beggar asleep on the pavement: grey-haired, wearing shorts and…

5 years ago

For No Good Reason

I love this poem by Hans Magnus Enzensberger. It's a commentary on the fact that - even in the darkest…

5 years ago

Wordsworth on the Rail Trail

There's a drainage ditch runs alongside the rail trail where we often take our morning stroll. It runs with water…

5 years ago