11 April 2013

First, a little Kit Smart on his birthday. I hope he got what he wished for.

For God has given us a language of monosyllables to prevent our clipping.
For a toad enjoys a finer prospect than another creature to compensate his lack.
Tho' toad I am the object of man's hate.
Yet better am I than a reprobate.       who has the worst of prospects.
For there are stones, whose constituent particles are little toads.
For the spiritual musick is as follows.
For there is the thunder-stop, which is the voice of God direct.
For the rest of the stops are by their rhimes.
For the trumpet rhimes are sound bound, soar more and the like.
For the Shawm rhimes are lawn fawn moon boon and the like.
For the harp rhimes are sing ring string and the like.
For the cymbal rhimes are bell well toll soul and the like.
For the flute rhimes are tooth youth suit mute and the like.
For the dulcimer rhimes are grace place beat heat and the like.
For the Clarinet rhimes are clean seen and the like.
For the Bassoon rhimes are pass, class and the like. God be gracious to Baumgarden....

08 April 2013

Welcoming another guest blogger: Ryan Nowlin (lately of the Poetry Project). He will be joining me sometimes henceforth.

I don’t get Brooklyn

My boss thought the catnip
on my desk was pot.  Go figure!
The reason why I like you 
may stem from unresolved
issues from jr. high school
Atari was my personal hell.
 See where this behavior gets you?
Newark has the feeling of being
affixed, but not New York City.
Prudential Building is mostly
underrated in New Jersey.
Teens who hang out on street
corners become bus drivers.
Every stale breeze seemed
to whisper “Louise”
I have this recurrent dream
of a starry carousel creaking
After days of retrofitted murmurs
soft hypnotic laughter
approaching fresh fantasies
a licked window.

by Ryan Nowlin