Hypergraphia

Fill in the blank: Poetry is ____________

From Poetry 205 Fall 2017 to Poetry 205 Spring 2019. This poem was compiled from students’ responses to the above equation.

What is Poetry?


I.
a baby’s first tears,
wrapped in the arms of a mother with fears
a cigarette bowing to the flame
and a vision upon paper with inked emotion
a light breeze making branches sway
and the sun’s dance on hard concrete
a mouthful of honey,
the sweetest stopping of breath
a cluster of words with power
to break history and sleep with lullabies
an escape; suddenly you find a light
that guides you to freedom
a life preserver: keeping me
from drowning in my thoughts
the sky at night, open
yet hard for one to see without clear vision
as stimulating as green tea
and as hard to sleep after

versigami

II.
Rhythm, brain down to fingertips
exploding
Life with depth, a looking glass, an entrance
to a world
Poetry opens unlearned minds
to live the impossible through the imagined

III.
a rebirth of ideas, precisely ironed
the power to defy time
the soul coming out to speak
an attempt to point

IV.
A poet is a soldier, lover, and fighter packed in one.
A therapist for all aspects of my being
A poet is a pathologist and the muse his corpse,
cracking open each vein to see what brought it to his table.

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Stone Harbor

Stone Harbor

rocks: amalgam of minerals
condensed space, boulders of infinity
and pebble-like acuteness

temple builders

misbehaving polygons
companion of trees; envious
of light eaters, their spiraling wood centers
and the green
perplexity of veins

the philosopher’s hourglass

kinesthetic anchors
between the sphere’s smooth,
unfinished edges and the jagged
catastrophe of no ending

havens of pressure

harbor masters
jetsam of intransience, compressed
and scattered, weathered and beaten,
spit and shine

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Atoms for Peace

five +/- (6)

“Atoms for Peace”

graffiti seen

at the Café Mondrian
on the Boulevard
Saint-Germaine, etched
on a coppery bathroom ornament,

some kind of announcement
for all the little deities
who have survived the smashing
and orbited back to the void.

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The Absinthe Drinker, Edouard Manet

 

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Atoms for Peace

Iron Skillet

 

Five lines (+/-), day 4.

 

Iron skillet

You school me with your trochees and well-oiled forgery
seasoned with elbow grease so that nothing
not the overnighting left overs
not the knife marks
not the hunger
stay for long, the most
anyone could ask
from fire.

 

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