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, April 30, 2005

Philip Nikolayev


Glade Powder Fresh™ is a delicate
light fragrance that instantly freshens the air
with the soft scent of talc. Use Glade anywhere
in the home to effectively eliminate

odors. Glade freshens the air while leaving a light
clean scent throughout your home.
Shake well before each use; hold can upright;
press button and spray toward center of the room.

Do not set on stove or
radiator or keep where

will exceed 120° F, as container
may burst. Do not puncture
or throw in fire.

Friday, April 29, 2005

Robert Desnos


The flower of the Alps told the seashell: "You're shining"
The seashell told the sea: "You echo"
The sea told the boat: "You're shuddering"
The boat told the fire: "You're glowing brightly"
The fire told me: "I glow less brightly than her eyes"
The boat told me: "I shudder less than your heart does when she appears"
The sea told me: "I echo less than her name does in your love-making"
The seashell told me: "I shine less brightly than the phosphorus of desire in your hollow dream"
The flower of the Alps told me: "She's beautiful"
I said: "She's beautiful, so beautiful, she moves me."

Thursday, April 28, 2005

Maureen Thorson

What's Your Number?

Snaggle-Toothed Andrea drove
Me crazy, but she was classic
Mayport, another girl coming into
Whatever sexiness youth doles
Out and with no one at home who
Loved her enough to keep her
From splashing it round. In the
Meantime, she was crude, she
Made rough jokes while being
Too eager to please. She was ripe
For abuse, sitting there like
The finish line at the end of a race:
You know people are going to cross it,
Just not who's gonna get there first.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Frank O'Hara


How funny you are today New York
like Ginger Rogers in Swingtime
and St. Bridget’s steeple leaning a little to the left

here I have just jumped out of a bed full of V-days
(I got tired of D-days) and blue you there still
accepts me foolish and free
all I want is a room up there
and you in it
and even the traffic halt so thick is a way
for people to rub up against each other
and when their surgical appliances lock
they stay together
for the rest of the day (what a day)
I go by to check a slide and I say
that painting’s not so blue

where’s Lana Turner
she’s out eating
and Garbo’s backstage at the Met
everyone’s taking their coat off
so they can show a rib-cage to the rib-watchers
and the park’s full of dancers with their tights and shoes
in little bags
who are often mistaken for worker-outers at the West Side Y
why not
the Pittsburgh Pirates shout because they won
and in a sense we’re all winning
we’re alive

the apartment was vacated by a gay couple
who moved to the country for fun
they moved a day too soon
even the stabbings are helping the population explosion
though in the wrong country
and all those liars have left the UN
the Seagram Building’s no longer rivalled in interest
not that we need liquor (we just like it)

and the little box is out on the sidewalk
next to the delicatessen
so the old man can sit on it and drink beer
and get knocked off it by his wife later in the day
while the sun is still shining

oh god it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much

Monday, April 25, 2005

James Galvin


Days are cubes of light
That equal each other
Whether anything happens in them or not,
No matter what anyone did or didn't do,
They are equal.

The emptiest are lovely,
Though one is drawn to the bright-edged shards
Of days that cracked
From disappointment and longing.

Some days I go looking for oceans.
If I find one I search the beach
For the teeth I left
In a glass of water
In a motel room in Nebraska.

I'm losing the ability to tremble.
I find appearances helpful.
Some days I go looking for the sky.

Sunday, April 24, 2005

Maggie Sullivan

This Bus Is All Right!

This bus is all right!
Like me, it’s late for History of Western Civilization Part Two class.
Actually, it doesn’t bother.
It goes to the beach, really slowly.
Wherever you’re coming from, for a dollar thirty-five,
it lets you deep inside.
In fact, the driver says, “Move all the way back!”
When you come out, you’re in a completely different place,
without feeling invaded, dirty, inadequate,
rejected or regret.
You don’t have to say anything on this bus.
You don’t have to have a comeback, or explain.
You don’t have to practice, or have traveled a lot.
You don’t have to be able to see a pattern.