Thursday, February 11, 2021

Joel Chace - Clothing: The Plague Year

They lied, those 

memories of stuffing 

garments  __________________________________________________________...discards every trace 

                                                                                                                                                  of noble attire and

                                                                                                                                                  elegance to become 

                                                                                                                                                  an unworthy member… 

                    into bags, 

hauling them away.  


into this closet  --  ______________________________________________________...opening up a 

                                                                                                                                                         door for the word…   


for a final visit  --  _______________________________________________________The doom is nearer

                                                                                                                                                         now:  it is at

                                                                                                                                                         the door; it has

                                                                                                                                                         lifted the latch.   


they are, back on hangers, jammed 

tighter than ever, dense 

as the tar baby,  _____________________________________…just sat…looking as cute 

                                                                                                                as a button and 

                                                                                                                saying nothing at all.


the briar patch.  ______________________________________________________Drown me! Roast me! 

                                                                                                                                                    Hang me!  Do 

                                                                                                                                                    whatever you please…



to penetrate or 

even to turn around.


Thursday, February 4, 2021

Keith Higginbotham - Two Poems


Hat / malted brain;

Coin tongue / a head of

the how-

Girl with coats of

spearmint grass; the

End of

The lend.



A of the yankee;

Outward ears! boy rooms 

perilous on delivery;

Was a brotherhood of binocular

gentlemen of the fewer

By our billionth / la a /;

O what parakeet

moments you?