Monthly Archives: February 2015

Poem (“Lead burns red and makes you dead”)

A condensation from the coils of synthesis: hundred fifty proof

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The Gift of Night and Storm (with process note)

I took the title of this poem from a phrase that resonated with me near the end of David Helwig’s column in the March edition of the Buzz, which column is a fine little meditation on the appearance of snow buntings after … Continue reading

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When I Am Dead, I Will Not Be Gone

When I Am Dead, I Will Not Be Gone When I am dead, I will not be gone. I will be dead. Death is not a destination, nor a vehicle to a destination. It’s not a taxi we hail, not … Continue reading

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February Haiku

Snow piled to the eaves— now who complains we don’t live amidst abundance?

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In Paris. The Portraits

I actually took a commission yesterday to write a poem for the birthday of a friend of a friend. It was a fun and interesting exercise. I worked mostly from a list sent to me of associations and interests of … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Cliches, Commissions, Creativity, John MacKenzie, Mythology, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Process, Summer, The Moon, The Sea, The Wind, Tide, Time, Venus | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Posthumous Diagnosis of Muhammad

Under the cold desert stars the prophet’s tics waxed and waned with the unsettled moon. Everything depends on where it began and so between spells cruel men re-sharpen his sickle. Listen. You may still hear his throat-clearing; it is the … Continue reading

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