The Mezunian

Die Positivität ist das Opium des Volkes, aber der Spott ist das Opium der Verrückten

Ode to What is Not a Summer Oak

Green-glowing leaves, tanned brown by angry suns isn’t what I’m writing ’bout. How scarlet peckers’ needle beats thy drum. They can’t; they don’t exist. Neither dost “thou.” ¿& all those tardy sunset conflagrations? are nothing but your wild imagination. No, no, no… I’ll tell you what it’s all ’bout, I'll tell you what it's all […]

Posted in Crazy, Metered, Poetry

I Tried to Take a Photo o’ the Cloudy Crescent-Moon Sky

A purple too minty to snatch, so always it’s fading to black; & all your strong crescent-shaped curves are melted to coffee-desk burns. & the firs disperse… I tried every setting, but none would work: neither higher exposure, nor color enhancements. ¿So what resource will for once offer closure? “Photo-taking poser…” & look, I did […]

Posted in Metered, Poetry

Die Wiederherstellung (Il Ritorno di autunnale giugno) [LEVANTASE ESTOY GOLPEANDO EN LA PUERTA NO SOY EL HOMBRE QUE ERA ANTES DÓNDE EL DIABLO ESTÁS CUANDO TE NECESITO]

& then I said, hush now while I study crumpled leaves. Too much time I’ve wasted ‘way from weeds. & then I thought, ¿what is it ‘gain I required to need? Awkward words won’t let me better be. & then I’d seen: Summer garbed in tombstone. & in medias day, Pepto-dysmal fixes rest to lay. […]

Posted in Poetry