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Tag Archives: doggerel
They Says It
the tru-est words they says is that there are no per se true words for it for ev-‘ry thing has a no-thing if a sin-gle per-son ut-ter it they is the ip-so fac-to ut-ter-er of it if a sin-gle per-son … Continue reading
Poesis in the Age of Wienie Grease
I’ve discovered that what’s called poesis, said to be the making and shaping of poems — they must be shaped as well as made! — is not straightforward. For one, you have to follow your feelings rather than steer them. … Continue reading
Posted in Anthology
Tagged doggerel, language, personal, poetry, rhetoric, spirituality, writing
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Art Is God-Light
In my language, the one I recall now only by closing my eyes, the word for love is Yeu. And the word for weakness is Yếu.How you say what you mean changes what you say.Some call this prayer. I call … Continue reading
Posted in Anthology
Tagged art, doggerel, language, music, painting, poetry, rhetoric, spirituality, translation, writing
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Nothing Different
I turn over and savor a treasured exchange: — “What do you need from me right now?”— “Nothing different.” How perfect is such an answer? What’s needed starts with nothing. I’ve aplenty of it! “Different” turns it just so much, … Continue reading
But Here We Are: Me and…
I feel foolish at bobbing and weaving through the tall grass of music theory, unled and untaught, not glimpsing even sky, much less horizon. All I would have to have done — note the pluperfect infinitive — is to have … Continue reading
Saloon Spittoon
The bucal effluvia belched from limousine and lectern drums the ear like the per- cussive splot of a hocked louie slapping a saliva slick in a saloon spittoon. (c) 2020 JMN
Relative Generality
When you reach a fork in the road Pick it up like Einstein thought in nineteen-oh-seven At his business of therefore’s that People in free fall do not feel their own weight Equals floating in gravity-free space So no work … Continue reading
Don’t Worry: An Original Poem
It’s said worrying about the future is paying interest on a debt not owed. Yet, who worries about the past? The essence of worry is that it targets the unhappened. Do not worry about Bahamians in Dorian’s path. Their flesh … Continue reading
“Odor of Sanctity”
Odor of Sanctity James Mansfield Nichols The body is detritus wrested free From the last-minute clutch of agony. The mortal launchpad of a soul now lies Charred by the life’s fierce burn, the prey of flies. The faithful fight for … Continue reading
