Jump to content
pennyroyalty

peotry thread

Recommended Posts

thanks. 

 

I once thought of you

as a way out

 

now, I’m amazed at how you

stepped back and disappeared 

 

maybe you are no different

and its only that I will never know you better

 

It’s 2:16 am and you’ve been snoring

for an hour now, maybe

with an aggression

even in sleep, after a night like this

still you have no rest

 

as I think about what apologies I have to give

to the friends who were here, when the lights

were still on

and dread, oily and thick, sinks me further into the bed

 

how many times will this happen again?

and I think, it’s been more often 

despite everything we’ve tried

 

and I think, floating up from the mattress,

a slight distance upward,

this is never going to get better

and there are so many things I have to do now

that will take so much of my time

 

I close my eyes and try to think

of what the new walls will look like, and I believe

that when I open them, I will see a different room

and there will be silence

 

for how long?

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

poemsx2

 

1. 

 

 

being a person begins here - soft wind - 

 
the way it glazes
 
my face - unless
 
this is just what it's like 
 
to be a cake? no confirmation comes
 
however many mountains lakes rivers,
 
even waves (silly), i think about. if you came over
 
the question would be fractioned
 
into the regions of your body 
 
as i imagine them: stitched
 
together by the cutest, and the least cute
 
of your thoughts. until then i will 
 
turn off the light 
 
and play silence
 
to my ingredients 
 
 
 
 
2. 
 
wind, spoons, electricity: i imagine
 
homecoming exactly as it 
 
imagines me. when the outlines
 
do come, i run, find the less
 
contoured hills and 
 
sit. say i will stand, hill,
 
when you river! use all
 
possible rhetorical strategies
 
to give the sitting purchase. 
 
think of the knees under the aegis
 
of all the names
 
of the trees - the ones near
 
especially. semen is xylem 
 
for the five minutes 
 
when i achieve my goal. not
 
to be buddhist, but to treat
 
intentions like ghosts
 
to be caught, and fucked
 
back to their origin: 
 
hot yellow emptiness which
 
rides under me. going somewhere
 
no doubt. 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

new'un

 

it’s hard to ignore

anything in hugh smith’s

new book

 

hugh smith’s new book arrives like a meteor shower

of cute souls and leaves

like movies of birds,

whole movies

 

this is not hugh smith’s new book

how ridiculous

if this were hugh smith’s new book!

 

hugh smith’s new book

slicing through yesterday like

today

ample with cosmos

darting like a fish

 

savage

funny

readable

 

written completely in the english langauge

 

coming, floating, crawling

to the space near you which you have often walked passed and thought

shouldn’t there be a bookshop there

at least a book

at least a picture of hugh smith

my old friend

who I like very much

who I would very much like to hear from

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

can do.

 

poem1 

 

Magical dogs

 

and small, in some sense alien

 

pieces of chicken which fall just outside

 

your understanding. The reason why you came,

 

the heat and the frost, it all

 

flashes up on the screen.

 

Tenderness, tenderness, tenderness: take

 

the words as seriously, more seriously,

 

than yourself, than the objects

 

your hoard so gently

 

in your pockets. The images have flow -

 

know yourself inside out and the inside

 

will know itself: laughter falling,

 

as the lightning rages, the garden hot 

 

but still. 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

poem2

 

Gently equivocating, gradually through the dense

 

slow light. A forest of weird, brazen absences, shining,

 

but obviously filtered, ravaged even, by

 

huge nonsensical needs, floating far below it all,

 

fat like whales. I believe in you, and the occasional

 

alignments of your qualities into a unity

 

which doesn’t need to be mentioned. But don’t I

 

also believe in so much else: the inkling

 

of sun, just scratching the surface

 

of a day, arriving whole and wild into

 

the open brains of the few? I like my walks

 

as I like my men: long, essentially

 

directed towards an impossible horizon,

 

but one that does, sometimes, drop down

 

like post at your feet: clunk.  

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

then a more serious "good" one i probably posted before

 

 

 

Certain All-Conquering Powers I Know

 

 

Love, in the end, conquers all:

 

it tramples the bean stalks under foot

 

it tramples the insects hidden

 

therein

 

nothing can stand in its way

 

people see it from a far and turn back around

 

to attend the rows of things

 

in their gardens

 

people avoid it in the aisles

 

people look at the paintings in the corridors

 

for the first time ever

 

as they turn to let it pass

 

it travels fast

 

assimilating its failures into

 

forward motion

 

yes

 

they look at the paintings

 

they look at the horses in the fields there

 

ah

 

to look at horses in a field in a painting

 

one day  

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

fnx

 

 

jamestown

 
sounds like a nice place 
probably some fruit cake
in the fridge
im 99% sure its in america 
therefore named after somewhere in england
which maybe i could visit tomorrow? 
bring my own fruit cake,
sit on the floor?
there are some texts ive been hoping for months to receive,
that could do it. 
(the manic gesture pluming up like a signal fire?)
although what happened
to wednesday film day - decided upon
during a long distance mutual 
bath, the miles between us contorting
themselves, so ideographically,
into that startling future.
but just as easily undone,
a bad drop from the tap.
the tiles are so slippery - better
to make decisions
near nature
- the squashed geometries, bold
as repressed memories.
all the jumble and wreck. hm. 
then i start thinking about my old dog,
my brown haired fave,
marble eyes
busy harkening back to rock. 
 
yes. time to go home. 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Everything I have done thus far, my location, done. for my father,

 

moving moving moving

 

The hilly landscape glints, leaning away from one's gaze. Lean back. Pass sky, houses, streams

 

It is all towards his love. I'm going to seoul, I'll buy a guitar.

like this especially

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

then a more serious "good" one i probably posted before

 

 

 

Certain All-Conquering Powers I Know

 

 

Love, in the end, conquers all:

 

it tramples the bean stalks under foot

 

it tramples the insects hidden

 

therein

 

nothing can stand in its way

 

people see it from a far and turn back around

 

to attend the rows of things

 

in their gardens

 

people avoid it in the aisles

 

people look at the paintings in the corridors

 

for the first time ever

 

as they turn to let it pass

 

it travels fast

 

assimilating its failures into

 

forward motion

 

yes

 

they look at the paintings

 

they look at the horses in the fields there

 

ah

 

to look at horses in a field in a painting

 

one day  

 

 

 

fnx

 

 

jamestown

 
sounds like a nice place 
probably some fruit cake
in the fridge
im 99% sure its in america 
therefore named after somewhere in england
which maybe i could visit tomorrow? 
bring my own fruit cake,
sit on the floor?
there are some texts ive been hoping for months to receive,
that could do it. 
(the manic gesture pluming up like a signal fire?)
although what happened
to wednesday film day - decided upon
during a long distance mutual 
bath, the miles between us contorting
themselves, so ideographically,
into that startling future.
but just as easily undone,
a bad drop from the tap.
the tiles are so slippery - better
to make decisions
near nature
- the squashed geometries, bold
as repressed memories.
all the jumble and wreck. hm. 
then i start thinking about my old dog,
my brown haired fave,
marble eyes
busy harkening back to rock. 
 
yes. time to go home. 

 

 ^_^

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

from today if I remember right

 

Pale moon, as unable to say hello to me

as I am to it. Pale moon, glowing thing,

frosty sky circle, what are you doing there,

what have you done? But there are

other things to worry or at least

think or at least pretend to think

about, for example, my family life,

like trying to hold an ice cube on your eyeball,

and this huge and brilliant lake

which I could swear didn't exist

a moment ago. As blue as you like, the

shape of a yet to be smiled

smile, a pocket in the world:

if it was 200 years ago I'd throw in

my gold chained watch and wish

for something interesting to happen!

But it's now again,

all the sporadic evasions of a this,

the in your face passing

second rather than the behind

your face historic one, just one

brick in some castle but today

is the day I say today

is the day I say today

is the day I say today

is the day I say

 

my name to the earth without crying.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now

×
×
  • Create New...