WILLIAM M. RAMSEY ant ant ant ant ant 1995-1999
October 30, 2013 § Leave a comment
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under your cheekbone
the mole drinks in blackness
from night’s caress
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sunrise –
through blue parting blouse
your breast peeping
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pebble splash –
all i hurl
sinks
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the shovel upright –
putting my dog
in the hole
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i flop onto
her dress on the bed
it is receptive
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a minuscule bug
here /
kept that line short
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this stupid war
feeling murderous hate
picking peaches
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JIM KACIAN ant ant ant ant ant 1995-1999
October 28, 2013 § Leave a comment
:
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stars
whorling
drainwater
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retained from childhood
nothing much of importance
two horse-chestnuts
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driving into
the purple mountains
till they brown
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hearing a car
that never comes
high pine wind
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roar of wind
her measured breathing
in the lulls
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burning incense at dusk
a blue haze
on the pines
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something foul
in the smell of smoke
last year’s leaves
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MARLENE MOUNTAIN ant ant ant ant ant three
October 22, 2013 § Leave a comment
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whether weather
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spring evening the poem rings in my ears unwritten
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summer dusk a poem gets as far as my throat
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autumn afternoon no poem to send with the letter
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winter morning perhaps a poem with no content
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now/here
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now/here too much nature i go no/where
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poor a career
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don’t know and if i did i’ve forgotten
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earth worm earthworm
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GUY R. BEINING ant ant ant ant ant three
October 20, 2013 § Leave a comment
dangling with weeds
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I
water as preface,
water-logged theme
STUCK to pages.
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II
paint bone an EARth
shade & tie
pulley to ribcage.
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III
dark clouds merge
w/ribs of mt.;
a LUNG collapses.
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IV
white, WHITE
butterFLY,
bLINKing light.
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V
isle led thru
pebbLED shoulders of
her 2 shores.
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VI
a paper thin
sMILE passes
porcelain knobs.
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VII
her flesh buds out
from rosy stockings
PULLED DOWN.
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VIII
too soon
the morBID dance
takes hold.
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IX
pluralness into
purpleness, twi-
light sinking.
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X
a snake t h r u stake
tips
a dead leaf.
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XI
go with blow-
fish & bub-
bled up sand.
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XII
agent orange
over Hanoi, red
pockets under love canal.
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XIII
voo-doo, 2 wooden
pegs, her legs rub-
bed f i r e.
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CHRIS GORDON Haiku 21 an anthology of contemporary English-language haiku
October 16, 2013 § Leave a comment
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a love letter to the butterfly gods with strategic misspellings
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avoiding definitions we stroke the tender leaves of the maple
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later you realize it was actually a part of your own body
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where the lines end and the absence begins an architecture or so
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parked ahead of us someone watches the air a syrup
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the rain drips quickly on the white pavement lowfatdeathcamp
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Anorexia plus Silicon
June gets a bruise
then it starts to rain
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twilight those children shout the names of their dogs Freeway and Tequila
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spiders settling in where my habits where away the edges
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I meet the twin she
never mentioned the mist
lit briefly by the sun
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which part of me gets which part of you suddenly it’s spring
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dusk turns gray and
hazy and breaks off into
several angry girls
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leaf shadows on
the ground sway from
the secrets of war
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all the sticks
sharpened differently the moon
has stained your gloves
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she’s reaching for the red
chicken something passes
in front of the sun
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when the rain stops
you find me in the apple
packing my bags
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things I did with my hand show up as dead skin
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SAM SAVAGE ant ant ant ant ant 1995
October 15, 2013 § Leave a comment
from Eighteen kinds of loneliness
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EIGHT
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Going after waving to someone there’s my back
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NINE
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Evening down a road where a car has gone
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TWELVE
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A small window filled with seasounds it lightens
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SEVENTEEN
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Rain on a sharp field of stones
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EIGHTEEN
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With a raincoat and umbrella I go to hear someone sing
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YUGEN PRESS (McCLELLANVILLE 1995)