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Excelsior: A Poem in Nine Parts Preface: Musings on a Lighthouse by an Eastern Isle (Suggested by a painting by Mario Larrinaga) It is bright tonight; this plain, displaced from place In Time's broad flight, yields…
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faith in gravity/permitted them to extol/the guillotine's blade.
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I supposed reluctantly that Princeton is soft as Macalester College is soft. A person could die just for having attended U.W.-Madison or Yale.
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"Why, before the summer has passed
You won’t remember her name. . ."
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"Nothingness had had enough. Nothingness had become militant. It had bought a camouflage jacket. It grew an afro. It burned its bra. Nothingness was pissed, and it wanted its stuff back."
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anxiety
said Kierkegaard
is the dizziness
of freedom
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A customary phone call from home. What are you doing she says? Playing football I retort – what else. The usual sigh and a faint giggle followed. Much unlike how it backfired back in the late 20’s and we were going to make it the reason to break up! The p
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I didn't hear your last words or see your lasteyes. I didn't reach you in time, so I sat by your corpse,silently saying goodbye. I am in that process,not sour, not sweet, that yoked speaking which can't(because the heart won't let it) utter its whisperedlast word, but…
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everything moved in circles
like the music, the booze and the drugs
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It was uncomfortable to realize people had agendas. That there could be invisible realities.
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The combined smells of ocean breeze, grilled cheese sandwiches, incense and sweat and burning herb that wafted over from Shakedown, along with windblown notes from tinny car speakers all rolled into a potent sensory cocktail he hadn’t tasted in far too l
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If I seemed disappointed after our conversation,
then, for the record, that was never the case.
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The man and the woman looked at each other almost shyly. The man flicked his eyes away self-consciously and looked outside, seeing the clouds in the distance, the smaller buildings…
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The number is very large/
and perpetually changes//
as old stars fade, explode,/
or collapse into something not stars
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From my place, down here amongst the earth, we have many names for you.
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Forgetting her inhibitions, she dove for him.
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A spire
that had stood one hundred and forty years
fell in
a single second of the blackest day.
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You left for the glittery wild of West Hollywood. I guess L.A.'s off-limits now. My heart goes fucking tachy when I drive over Kellogg Hill past Forest Lawn and see the skyline glowing through the rainbow haze of sunset. You're out there, out in the…
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Paris is a great place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.
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It is like truth on the battle field. Muted
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“You look strangely familiar,” he said, taking a drink and swinging his leg over the horse, landing on the ground beside me ...
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It's really not too bad. The personI am was me. We laughed insidethose sacred places at all the monieswell spent. We walked in the gardenswithout any shoes on. Not one singleflower seemed to mind. And now it'sa forgotten mess or so I've imagined.I'd rather you think about…
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The coin, so little, the watch chain, the youth, the fading softening speech, each hand and finger, the panic modeled on your own eyes, the ashtray, certain stumps along the way, the long distance, the odd feather, the jazz rope gone,…
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Mark Reep is a faded Polaroid oracle taped to the only unbroken window of an abandoned house in Ithaca NY.
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There was an empty box on his facebook page asking to be filled in with, “What’s on your mind?” He thought. "Hair?"
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she shivered in the ceasefire like a virginal nude brought to life.
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Somniloquies rise like the drowned . . .
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