Tag Archives: Wingbeats II

30 in 30, day fourteen

sept 2017 30-30This is a derangement (an exercise from Wingbeats II) of a fragment from Edna St. Vincent Millay.

In memory

No more the broken bird beats
golden; the once-ivory box is
spoken: all your words are lovely.

Restore the secret of earth:
chemistry shall never talk
but of your music.

– from Edna St. Vincent Millay, “Memorial to D.C.: Elegy”



Day twenty-seven poem: LexPoMo 2017

LexPoMo2017Here’s another exercise from Wingbeats II. It’s called a pojack, and it involves hijacking another poem. The victim of my effort is Emily Dickinson’s “A Man may make a Remark” (no. 952).

Click here to view the original poem.

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

A wonder

A bear may make a waffle
in itself a marvelous thing
that may prove the source of enchantment
in hidden nature seen

Let us cook with skill
let us explore with love
mystery exists in the woods
before it exists on the stove

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 fourteen poem: LexPoMo 2017

LexPoMo2017Today’s poem resulted from a poetry exercise in Wingbeats II (edited by Scott Wiggerman and David Meischen) using D.H. Lawrence’s poem “Twilight.” (View the original poem here – title discrepancy due to sources – The Complete Poems vs. New Poetry.)

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

Twilight deranged

gone from day is sight
litter glimmers light

a veil of star, a single play
there forsaken have the children

lie like a waste has meant
day worldly that all by flittering

goes moth-blue moon and night
oozing stock scent

old mirth of children wanes
clamor and pallor in palimpsest

the west dips and swallows
out of earth comes darkness