Joanne Lowery, “Brush”
At the author’s request, I’ve removed this poem, which was originally published in the 1990s.
Joanne Lowery, “Brush” Read More »
At the author’s request, I’ve removed this poem, which was originally published in the 1990s.
Joanne Lowery, “Brush” Read More »
Our Love is Like a Bowling Ball Our love is like a bowling ball Like a brand new Brunswick Red Zone, It rolls and rolls down the alley of desire And rolls and rolls and rolls. I will keep you out of the gutters, my love And put my fingers in your holes Every kiss
The worst love poem ever? Read More »
Come to the edge he said. They said: we are afraid. Come to the edge he said. They came. He pushed them … and they flew. (Christopher Logue. Sometimes ascribed to Guillaume Apollinaire.)
In a Japanese mood, on a still, moonlit night, near the end of autumn. Not for nothing Did the red leaf fall.
A 3 a.m. poem, toward the end of autumn Read More »
The wind has that tone Between whistle and moan.
A 3 a.m. poem, listening to a coming storm Read More »
Examinations: done. Recreation: begun.
A 3 a.m. poem, after a marathon grading season Read More »
Mind becomes numb; Words do not mean; World out of plumb— Man needs caffeine.
A 3 p.m. poem, after hours and hours of exam-week grading Read More »
Burrito. Mistake. Now stomach ache.
A 3 a.m. poem, after a midnight snack Read More »