Tagged: jack gilbert

Poem: Respect Your Elders

Stubbornness wants to be a virtue, aspiring to be thought of as a mark of good character, nearly related (as if by marriage) to the better qualities Determination and Stick-to-itiveness. Stubbornness, however, is not Determination nor even Stick-to-itiveness. Stubbornness is an affront to Nature, an insult to Evolution, an honest admission of stupidity. I do...

Poem: Thank You to the Birds

Perched on a wire, a feathered ornament prettifying the blight of power lines graphing the sky with staves and you’re the notes. La-la-la…and a little higher Laah! Yah, hah, how you make me la-la-la, How you make me laugh With something like childlike, childish, altogether foolish Joy joy. Oh, joy. That kind. Thank you, I’ll...

Poem: Yoga Lesson

What is arrogant contrary to your view would be to presume that the threshold of excellence you’ve artificially set  — what does and doesn’t qualify for literature art excellent worthiness – earned along the way the organic certification, the one we all hope we’re worth. In fact, my dear, my darling, my [insert pet name...

Poem: Poet Philosopher

Let this be my manifesto to be tacked upon cathedrals and posted on digital walls where everyone in the world goes to look at what isn’t happening to them. It has thusly been decreed that He is I and I is He – another way to say that I is We, and He and You...

Poem: Scandal

IN MEMORY OF EUGENE KONIK, born February 27, 1936. R.I.P.   And although I don’t share your candid misanthropy I understand and I am sorry. Father who left us all too soon I understand and I am sorry. Our species, the one you claimed to despise, having peered inside yourself and all around the carousel, having...

Poem: Ochocinco

A contrite Chad Johnson apologized for showing disrespect to a judge, a white lady in Florida. The former NFL star best known for a peculiar and unknowable fetish with his own number had slapped his attorney on the ass in court, just as he had slapped countless male asses before in end zones and sideline...

Poem: What’s Left Unsaid

I don’t think I’m good enough. I do think you’ll leave me. You’re not what I fantasized about when I pleasured myself all those lonely years. You’re the best I can do. We won’t ever be on the cover of a glossy magazine dedicated to the beautiful (and interesting). We will learn to be content...

Poem: Endings

We were adults about the whole thing, saying the script learned well from years of practice and reading with spongy minds. It — the awful schism — was for the best as any self-help book, climbing up the bestseller list would have declaimed in tones of compassionate smugness.   Yet no one wanted to go...

Poem: Floral Message

Bursting forth, saying in color and delicate shape that striving for the sun is worth the heartache, the petals of the plants, demure and bombastic, try for nothing more than survival. But in this effort their nonchalant beauty, which impresses thirsty birds and dust-covered bees as much or more than human admirers, reminds all who...