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December 16, 2023
This is a partial collage: I started this poem by pulling words from a translation of “The Pipe” by Stéphane Mallarmé, but as I assembled it I felt the urge to go in a new direction. Yesterday I found a fine winter. I forgot the room, the first roads. I was planning my sun, shivering…
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October 7, 2023
If you south, past pull just shy of the sunlight where burbling light deepening the sound from the tree, you may have an experience you cannot easily explain. A rustle in your vision. The distinct phantom disfigured. Some danger, because of it, the story lived, died. In a fire unable to find persistence. The unnamed…
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July 2, 2023
Diastic poems keep pulling me back…I was thinking about my attempt to do one with the word chair a couple weeks ago. For the heck of it, I figured I might try again but with the Pyne blog post. changed those seasons national federal compassing where that dominated federal control the Alaska dedicated entire…
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June 11, 2023
Today I did a diastic, with the seed word “fire,” of the blog post I used for my erasure yesterday. I thought I could improve the final result by editing it down and eliminating some of the “clutter” (so a sort of “erasure on top of diastic”). fire life fire hired North Rim done…
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June 10, 2023
A day or two ago, my habit of listening to the BBC whenever I have a bout of early-morning insomnia brought to my ears an interview with fire historian Stephen Pyne. I have been living the event that was under discussion: the fires in Canada and the resulting smoky conditions in the northeastern US. In…