texts that change the conscious parameters of literature, both for readers and writers. from a different angle than these, r.p. blackmur adds: 'poetry: [is] ...language so twisted and posed in a form that...it adds to the stock of available reality.' now that blogger has included the ability to reproduce fonts more accurately, alpha-numeric visual-poetry will be welcomed for consideration. formerly edited by peter ganick. send texts to matt margo at email@example.com for consideration...
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
haibun || Sheila E. Murphy
White for instance, hypothetical egg cream. And sugar I don't own. Find me a verb, honey.
Wax petalia, crumb bluck, symptom-fragile peaks to stone. I weather what I don't condone.
And now de trop, why not? Symphonic bin cringe corpus clear. The wilderness and voice
blood near the metro proxy gloat and rung. A modest integer with mild integrity, why not
floss and sprocket? Sore matrix and complacent treading just above the depth. Meandering
or its equivalent leads lads some white place at a white pace. Not much to take in all at once.
Maybe recidivist old-time sparks. Or varsity arch qua clobbered mantra. Beware grand dames
in white mantillas. Spain crooks its arm. Manilla envelopes replete with papers. White.
Comply with dampness when it sparks reputed reach.
"Not at all, not at all," squeak easy templates bound for dross