No Poem, perhaps because it's a holiday?

But you should read some of these--
they may break your heart.

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

Love,
Sean

No Poem, Just Living

But I talked a lot about poems
and that's got to be worth something.
I'm in Carbondale and had dinner
with Beth and Andy last night--
trout, creamed spinach, mashed potatoes
and turnips (really amazing).
I'm at Rodney's now, and I'm off
to Pittsburgh this morning--
first a breakfast at Mary Lou's.
I'm very happy I stopped here as
I love these people--thanks to all.
As far as poetry--uh, the sun rose
this morning like a really close star.

More later.

This is Not a Poem

I'm hitting the road for Pittsburgh this morning, so updates will be random. Thanks for all the comments. More later.

--Sean

Poem of the Day

We Can't Even Think of a Word That Rhymes
--thanks to James for the idea

My brother and I ran home
to crank the KEG as loud
as our blood demanded.

Calling the DJ to beg
for Alice Cooper--
the only one to understand
this revolt in our chests,

this euphoria explained
with those triplets pounding
through the final call:
"School's out completely!"

We needed something
to blow out this rage,
this tattered thrill
of closure and uncertainty.
We had no bongs, no girls,
no cars, no magazines to help.

Two weeks later, we'd growl
around the house searching
for anything to kill the sugared
days of summer, the drag
of the sun, the stunted
grass in the back yard--
the damnable endless days.

But for those few minutes
we forgot the torpor
on summer's horizon.

We danced around the couch
blood crashing in our veins,
fists in the air screaming,
"school's out for summer!
school's out forever!"

Poem of the Day

The Poem of the Day

hides in the wings breathing,
checking the shine on his boots.
The poem of the day waits
for his friend to stop yammering
in the green light of the stage.

He turns to his images:
a glass of tea sweats on a side table,
a tired waitress sleeps on the floor,
a hawk floats above in the dark.
The applause dies.

"Good job, pal," he mutters
as the other poem passes
into the darkness of the wings.

The announcer takes the stage.
The poem stubs his cigarette
nudges the waitress with his boot
and walks into the light.

Poem of the Day

Suicide: A Primer

A shower of falling leaves
from the sideyard maples

A wave

A thousand arcs of sunlight
an eclipse through the trees

Her mouth

The falling notes of an ambulance
as it cries past your house

The perfectly pitched curve
of her hip as she sleeps

The universe of ants

The neighbor's boy as he reaches
for the spring falling rain

An orange

Snow drifting the beams
of a slower falling barn

Sunlight trout motionless
in the cool of a spring

A bruise

The laughter of a girl
just six lockers down

Silence after a symphony
hear the blood in your veins

You must first learn
to forget these things.

Weekends Off

I'm really liking this poem a day thing, but I think I'll allow myself weekends free from poetry pressure. Congratulations to all the students at ASMSA--this last year has been wonderful, so thanks for all you've done, and thanks especially to several students who took time out to make me feel welcome at ASMSA. You all amaze me. Thanks.

Poem of the Day

Verse Chorus Bridge

Your burned out eyes
and tattered Levi's with stains
of days and cigarette burns call
like a fireline chorus of Les Paul lust.

Love sings in your spit slurs
you slam dance queen
you white line on a pinball machine
you wandering danger.

Distortion stutters Marshall stack
and I want you back
with your e string shrill
and your bass line bump.

Poem of the Day

Your Death: Essay Questions

You once turned a crying woman
from your darkened apartment
for no reason. Discuss.

Burning houses excite you
almost sexually. What does fire
represent in the poem of your life?

When rain slaps the pavement,
does the narrator (you)
miss your father? Why or Why not?

After a game of basketball
one cloudy afternoon, you mumbled
"I love you." Explain.

When you have finished the test
put down your pencil and leave the room
as quietly as you can.

Poem of the Day

Summer Storm in Fayetteville

Motionless under a glass bell of heat,
my brother and I lie on a slab of stone
playing death. The nighthawks swerve
above our heads and the cicadas sing
neon in the locust trees in the darkening
back yard. Our parents gin mumble
Coltrane and Nixon while the storm
gathers far west of town--long
reeds of water sweeping down streets
and fields. The bell breaks with light
and thunder tumbles the air. Nighthawks
scatter to the trees at the far edge
of the world. Raindrops spin in our wake.

Poem of the Day

Like This

she said, and put her fingers to her mouth.
Evening settled in my blood and kissed
her eyelids shut. Flashing in unison
in the meadow under the sickle moon, fireflies
signaled the end of summer.

The leaves become watches--
their yellowed hands fall under your chair
as you creak the time down
creak the time down as the leaves
become watches, their fat stems
feeding the time down like this,
she said.

Poem of the Day

The Change Machine

Breathing into the brown hair of a stranger
at the Gas and Go, I lost sight of your razor
pants and hairline cracks behind the ATM.

Your delicious tongue called out fresh
languages in your sleep under shuffling air
too hot to fall again for hours.

That's days gone. Under the rising sun
by the Greyhound terminal in Memphis
a corkscrew kid--bluejeans, a smirk--

laughs like a change machine. They come slow
at first: a rose, a river, some blood
falls down. The leaves in dusk light

cascade to the storm drain, your smile
fades into the dark of blown candles
molten, wild to be found.

Poem of the Day

Poem for Laurie Anderson

It happens often when I rise
three prong outlets shriek surprise

In every room throughout the house
they stare as if they just found out

about the burglar who is me
but empty sockets cannot flee

they wait till night and lights are out
their eyes cry sparks behind the couch

My Precious Time

ABC just advertised a program "so emotional it takes two hours to tell!"