Tag Archives: William Carlos Williams

Day twenty-six poem: LexPoMo 2017

LexPoMo2017And here at last is today’s poem: another derangement of William Carlos Williams’ long-suffering “The Pink Locust.”

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

Blush

trees grow; fools question, pry into affairs until one
remains resilient

come now – neglect to attack and find you were made
to admire the minutiae on the ground

the world flowers, gratified to help the public
resemble a garden rid of thieves

say your tears and stand with others who flatter
the sweet-pea in question

hide the rootlet until they admit thinking the locust
generous, persistent, and modest

Day nineteen poem, LexPoMo 2017

LexPoMo2017I’m still tinkering around with William Carlos Williams’ “The Pink Locust,” finding new ways to take it apart and make something different out of the pieces. Fair warning: there will probably be more derangement poetry in the weeks to come because I’m having too much fun with this exercise.

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

Naked

they could but hide anything
among pride public thief

a resembling flower: modest, laughable
is it so myself to think too flattering

will remain rootless, hair-thin
if ground from the tear

will you garden the admitted one
locust-pink, as persistent as I am?

Day fifteen poem: LexPoMo 2017

LexPoMo2017Here’s another poem using the derangement exercise from Wingbeats II. The source poem is the latter portion of “The Pink Locust” by William Carlos Williams. Unfortunately, I could not find an online version of the poem to link to.

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

Face up

Place me – my denial will rest
among those who but rose
a poet’s galaxy.

I know not if I am it. In what may be
persistence, I flower like so and reward
greater offers.

No life would be ridiculous: which poem
in slighting slights itself? The poet made well
if it equals the rose.

A rose is an answer as might be betrayed
in would-be poems not inclined
to do much.

What says the world facing what the poet in me
will become? Myself, I think what
could I wish I were.

 

Day 6, NaPoWriMo 2017

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Auspicy

she stood amazed, the door
was open, birds
flew through the yard
over which the rain
blew and fell,
glazing everything –

when she saw
how she had misread
the signs
a pattern that she sensed dimly
reformed in her memory
and opened like fingers

she will find them in the trees
they will land on the house
and she will never again
notice them
in the same way –

(traced from William Carlos Williams’ “The Revelation” – https://reckon.tumblr.com/post/62306208565/the-revelation-william-carlos-williams)