Monthly Archives July 31, 2013

They operate contrary to the rules of common sense that we hold dear as proof that what we know is right, that we’re no fools and senses we possess perceive the truth. They ramble through eleven...

The Farmer’s Wife He may as well be sitting on a piece Of junk john-boat out on some open lake. The field is shorn, divested of its fleece. The hay is tedded and the rusty rake Is resting now beside...

1.  In 373, at Antioch, Jerome asked himself if he were not a disciple of Cicero rather than Christ, his eternal home; and thereupon abandoned his early love for philosophy, law, language, and...

By Christine Lin NEW YORK—How could staring at a canvas barely two square feet transport a person to the hillsides of Pennsylvania or the glass-like waters of Lake Placid? How could a painting of a farm...

Bereft of the poetry of his soul The knight took refuge in the house of death Into darkness he went with his mind crushed Wandering lust gone and with his own trust. The enchanter gone And...

A disturbing riddle was told to me: “The city of evil that starts with ‘B’ That has six more letters after that one, Will be, by bloody tragedy, undone. “The nations all love this mighty...

The chicken crossed the road I heard. Which was so silly, so absurd, Especially for so dumb a bird. But when she started to come back She met an eighteen-wheeler Mack That smacked her with a great big...

Alone, I take a flight to see some friends, I gaze out over ocean from the clouds and marvel, as the plane I’m in ascends with all of us above the earthly crowds. From gravity itself we’ve all been...

The Trojan War has finished its long course. Achaeans won by sneaking past the vaulting walls As if they were a gift: a wooden horse. A decade done, at last the city falls! And yet the riches found were...

I wonder if I'll ever see a banished piece of Poetry of mine in print. I hope and pray and squint; but yet, I have to say, that I may not live long enough. The Frogs are ugly, stark and gruff. The Bog is...

Across the trough o' th' mighty Hudson River at Poughkeepsie, New York, there's a cantilever bridge of steel, connected to a walkway rail trail that makes its two thousand meter trek in standard gauge, the...

Drums lie tilted, battered and still; Grass fires gutter; none are left to kill; Bitter smoke coils through leafless trees; A stunned horse quivers on bloody knees. A tin cup's clank, a thump, a moan...