Poemed

Poemed

sky-blue-prison prism of spin-back-earth for fall is the time of damn-dappled, of drab-drama-ed, of never-liked the-stubble-field-so-much-as-now (and soon a roethke-complicated wait-light) but now, now: the yellow apples: appley, crook’d, under the little- armed...
My Love Sent Me a List

My Love Sent Me a List

O my Love sent me a lusty list, Did not compare me to a summer’s day Wrote not the beauty of mine eyes But catalogued in a pretty detailed And comprehensive way the way(s) In which he was better than me. “More capable of extra- and intra- Polation. More...