Poetry Less Than Daily

Strong Poems. Beautiful Poems. Tough Poems. Poems w/ the F-word. Poems less frequent than before but no less kick-ass.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

LeRoi Jones

As a possible lover

silence, the way of wind
its early lull. Cold morning
to night, we go so
slowly, without
to ourselves. (Enough
to have thought
tonight, nothing
finishes it. What
you are, will have
no certainty, or
end. That you will
stay, where you are,
a human gentle wisp
of life. Ah…)
as a virtue. A single
specious need
to keep
what you have
never really

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Ron Padgett


The New York streets look nude and stupid
With Ted and Edwin no longer here
To light them up with their particularity
Of loving them and with intelligence
In some large sense of the word:
New York’s lost some of its rough charm
And there’s just no getting around it
By pretending the rest of us can somehow make up for it
Or that future generations will. I hear
A dog barking in the street and it’s drizzling
At 6 A.M. and there’s nothing warm
Or lovable or necessary about it, it’s just
Some dog barking in some street somewhere.
I hate that dog.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Catherine Wagner

I Am Darling You

let me king around
you king all over, mighty

Bring a town in, okay,
add a country,

slavish all over me, please.

Darned mighty, sleeping,
oyster eyes.

Feel little. Little my head to sleep.

I suffer you, you basic.

Deign down, lean at me, chosen.

Judas Icarus.

He made enough for me to take to lunch.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Alan DeNiro

Moby Dick II

You! With the semipermanent features!
And the Best Buy in your pocket!
And the limber subliminal cells telling you what to buy!
And the popsicle stick scythe!
What do you think you can cut with that?
You have a Lincoln Navigator for a sphincter!
What do you hope to accomplish with that?
Naming vehicles after famous presidents like that!
And also perhaps Vasco de Gama!
Go ahead and titter! This poem
Will never change your life!
But then again you’re a vampire!
So you’re kind of dead anyways!
Who was Ahab’s first mate and later died?

Monday, March 07, 2005

Robyn Schiff

Good-Bye Finch

When that which closes
hopes. Better to
measure. Leaner
weaves the raven
nearer the center, our
single reminder which the black bird makes
“find me, I am here” music,
crying out
“this food is not filling.” Find me
time, pleasure, ocean, ever,
or pure abstraction
as if the lightness

Forget that which is
rare? ounce? blessed?
Do you know the word for
what you do not
want. Transactions take place
Always a disruption
Transactions take the place of you

A. R. Ammons

Come Prima

I know
there is
perfection in the being
of my being,
that I am
holy in amness
as stars or paperclips,

that the universe,
moving from void to void,
pours in and out
through me:

there is a point,
only itself,
that fills space,
an emptiness
that is plenitude:

a void that is all being,
a being that is void:

I am perfect:
the wind is perfect:
ditchwater, running, is perfect:
everything is:

I raise my hand

Apologia pro blogia absentia

We here at Poetry Dailier apologize for sleeping in yesterday and neglecting to post a poem. In the future, feel free to harass us.