Cheap poetry, October 4–16
Its ruby goblet dry, the summer flies On wings that beat the hastening pace of time But pauses here for one last sip. Remember Well this welcome banquet. Come again. You lie! My thoughts cannot be...
View ArticleCheap poetry, April 2013
If you’re new to this, read the Cheap Poetry Manifesto. Scattered on the path, the maple blossoms Drops of blood shed by the spring’s new birthing. The rain will wash it clean, baptize the season. The...
View ArticleOn fallen leaves
A carpet of decay, as finely woven As any ancient treasure dearly bought, And lovelier for being more ephemeral: All the artisans of Kublai Khan In all the workshops of a mythic continent Could not...
View ArticleThe angry poet lashes out at his solicitors on election day
Damn you, sirs! My vote is not my voice! —He cried in futile fury at his email— As if for quadrennia I silent slumbered And woke to make myself a number! A vote is a mere puny choice Of wan...
View ArticleCheap poetry, January–March
It was a slow winter for poetry, but here’s the roundup. If you’re new to this, read the Cheap Poetry Manifesto. The decorations are put away in pieces and in bitses but the holiday ain’t over ’til we...
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What the snow reveals
Despite preemptive school closings and dire warnings of Black Ice, only a dusting of snow fell here last night — not even enough to cover the ground. A good snow, glistening contentedly in the morning...
View ArticleThe Lord is not a shepherd
A sermon preached at St. Joseph’s Episcopal Church in Durham, N.C., on April 26, 2015. John 10:11-18 Psalm 23 I was determined that I was not going to stand up here and talk about sheep, but in...
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The mad farmer, after the election
Every Wednesday, as part of our homeschool curriculum, I read a poem with my daughter. We talk about what it means and whether we like it (and why). Sometimes we analyze it. Then she responds by...
View ArticleHurrah for the porridge! A vegetarian hymn
There’s no better courage for a cold winter’s morning than a good hot bowl of Irish oatmeal — say, with apple pie spice and brown sugar and a drizzle of cream. And, as some of you know, few things...
View ArticleCheap Sonnet No. eiπ+1. In Which the Poet Fails to Grasp His Meaning
The dry leaf crumbling in the toddler’s fist, The cloud-form wind-rent at the careless naming, The fluttering dream that flees the day’s periphery, The memory-scent long rotted from its root: The lover...
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