As mile by mile is seen
"Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash."
~Leonard Cohen
Summer in Winter in Summer- Poets.org - Poetry, Poems, Bios & More
About This Poem“My wife’s name is Sommer. We were married in winter at a courthouse in Denver after spending a total of only nineteen hours together. The following day, at a packed art gallery downtown, I read this poem for her. The poem repeats in reverse order each of its lines starting from the exact center; it’s a form I stole from Peter Gizzi’s ‘Vincent, Homesick for the Land of Pictures.’”—Noah Eli Gordon
(Source: quesadillasandweed, via thebootydoctor)
grow
like a nervous system like tension
grow like nerves like swallowing
not hunger like hunger. like heat
grow like wisteria climbs rafters
like ribs like bone growing bone
heal like your heart stops or goes
like transmissions thrills in endless
space like spooks lust like spokes
joshua tree growing : for contrast-
hold your hand against lamp light
hold together peace on your wrist
grow like you are wild
but do not grow
old
Poetry by Monica Ferrell
There is nothing beautiful here
However I may want it. I can’t
Spin a crystal palace of this thin air,
Weave a darkness plush as molefur with my tongue
However I want. Yet I am not alone
In these alleys of vowels, which comfort me
As the single living nun of a convent
Is comforted by the walls of that catacomb
She walks at night, lit by her own moving candle.
I am not afraid of mirrors or the future
—Or even you, lovers, wandering cow-fat
And rutting in the gardens of this earthly verge
Where I too trod, a sunspot, parasol-shaded,
Kin to the trees, the bees, the color green.
sugar is smoking by Jason Schneiderman
sugar is smoking
it’s amazing how death
is always around the corner,
or not even so far away
as that, hiding in the little pleasures
that some of us would go
so far as to say
are the only things
keeping us alive
in response
she attributes smoking rates to neighborhoods
laughs and says
habits are harder than the street corners here
even parking spaces are hereditary
we need love like we love vice, and laughed again
like we need children to ward an empty home
see, these chronicles become our own death, she says
this smoke spirals back – it’s all circulatory, all terminal
and really, it’s all like with arteries, as with rocket tails
one day we’ll just ignite under a weary drinker’s thumb
stub our noses to his heel and hopes for his daughter
will keep his name
don’t misunderstand, she says
there is nothing worse than the unpleasant realization
that your [new] pet is actually an assassin, and laughs
like an addiction only god could hold, as your speaker
I can see the endemic on your lips from here, like cancer
we’ve grown our toes into our lawns, like tobacco rows
