“Dusk”
spider on the cold expanse
of glass, three stories high
rests intently
and so purely alone.
I'm not like that!
Rae Armantrout
Posted over on Poems & Poetics
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No Savvy, Kemo Sabe
::INSIGHT::
What we see, we have already "read" as our visual cortex filters our perceptions down through the doors of our experiences. What we read is immediately transposed perceptually to some kind of image that is compatible with our imagination. Here you will find much to read, and lots to see.
Glenn Buttkus
Glenn Buttkus
dVerse Poets
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March
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- Death is a Double
- The Standard Orchids
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- Don't Call
- On Day Fifteen, I Know
- In the Shower This Morning, I
- No Matter Which Way
- Death
- I Am Not
- He Comes In As
- On Average, the Human
- It Takes Two to Not
- On the Twenty-Eighth
- These Days, I Hold
- I Am Just About
- It Looks Like Your Toes
- How Can We Bear It
- These Memories Rub
- The Days Used to Press
- It Is Almost Unbearable
- They Put You Through
- After All That
- it is mostly self
- thirty four monks were
- Sunday Morning
- Rose Drachler
- We Have Heard What Drowning
- Home
- The Returnees
- Yesterday's Fragment
- If You Take Everything
- The Day Oxydizes
- What Remains of Your Death
- The March of the Penguins
- New Studio
- Below
- twenty eight.i
- I Cannot
- Carrying Weight
- The Day Stretches
- I Hold
- Hir Tsa Jin Shin Haw
- There Are Days
- And No One Came to Collect
- There Are Habits That Grow
- Blood Donor
- Mondays Through Fridays
- Some Tie Strings
- Even From This Far
- In the Hour Before Becoming
- Hunger
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- Cliche
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- The Rival Poet
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- The Introduction
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- The Chairs That No One Sits In
- Writing in the Afterlife
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March
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