I'm erasing every poem on the internet, one poem at a time, one antonym at a time.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
UNDER A GENTLEMAN'S TYPOGRAPHY The condo, the bush Weapon of the Dwarves! ERASURE ERASERS Listen Up! Rabbits in Astoria FENCEPOST
His odd circles, his wobbling digestion hides;
sloppy as his cumberbund, fuzzy as his chin;
weak as his warrants, difficult as dishwater;
Wrong though enchained, explosive and dark:
but different neurons, beneath his stray keypad
do feel out his habits, nor his wingspan led right.
http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/barbauld/1773/1773-lady.html
12:29 AM
a ditch for us
the vastness of a highway.
You'll speak all places
the poor embrace
and scrim their streetlight ray.
http://bartelby.com/104/97.html
9:14 AM
Weapon of the Dwarves! Big Trumpet! Once
You reconciled the tangle of their notes
Dissembled through the tablature of dopes
And dropped those little guys in arrogance!
Did Trump, then, set the perfect ambiance
To repel Ivanka? And those tasteful tropes
Steinbrenner strung; so now we mope
All mellifluous as Springsteen looks askance?
Yes. And I hear the presidential master
Lost to nature, and to the lawman’s cork—
While hundreds fed and stroked through the disaster,
And the women there forgot to use their forks!
We'll never stay the Yankee-master’s shouts;
Expensive seats have stripped him of a rout!
http://www.sonnets.org/elliott.htm#030
9:37 AM
Adama Adversus Tiberius
Spent to all nastiness this year begins in lying.
Will do: build trust by weeping, listen to the trickle.
Prose, in fidelity to yelling, terrible if incorrectly.
Adama's foot takes to deliberate hatred
Though the young journalist mugs: play is life.
http://erasures.wavepoetry.com/erasures.php?poemid=763
Rochester's Heart
Rochester's heart lost my heart not yours--my heart has skipped across both lanes toward your heart, beyond which one swims across either; your heart or mine.
http://erasures.wavepoetry.com/erasures.php?poemid=692
Puddles
Thither them, not them, not this people, the last.
Not the last and more flashlights: none came this morning.
Rescind nights because Rochester never paid in full.
Return to work missed his letter the nights rarely bring dinner to Rochester.
Meanwhile, losing license our airspace.
With them add slippers she forgets the nights.
http://erasures.wavepoetry.com/erasures.php?poemid=655
The Fukuyaman Prophecy
The creep of clerks, serving in essence a thick puree;
circling unhappily, like an interest-rate hike of 30%.
http://erasures.wavepoetry.com/erasures.php?poemid=631
8:36 AM
Early winter here in your gallbladder.
Stamps dropped on the ground
just yesterday, before
your tamed spleen and you
got it together,
stuck like petals this morning
against the battered curb.
Your gallbladder turns
as the carhorn bleats.
Indoors that night
over the spotted formica table
wadding up phonebills
you rose, as the telephone,
high overhead,
melted in the surprise housefire.
Suddenly you seemed to became old,
bored by the murky smoke--
the jittery light rolling
from behind the stove.
Wherefore this smell of gas?
Boring, boring, boring.
In the absence, you stood there
stiff, outside the worried choice.
Two minutes maybe,
it went on.
Then you stepped outside your front door,
stopped the brand new chevy,
and let his car tires squeal:
Jerk, you'd better forget
the house I just left! Listen up!
Forget you ever saw this!
http://www.poems.com/touchkun.htm
9:34 AM
Where oaktrees were gutted, two tombstones
sit undesignated, blackened stumps bored
and selfless, like Yoruban substances
still lost. Of course, you felt ragweed
go limp, and the dog alarm was still.
Rabbits feed. Their "is" is the law.
White monkeys paw the dandelions, frozen
skyward, discriminate, contingent.
Their bills run forward and geysers explode
and nurture under law excludes nurturing,
and you will take it to the empty courtroom.
Our fresh fruits are lost to us, raised
and returned to us, they are grown there.
In porno mags we lose stallions and fish;
the lawyers are here to prosecute us.
In legal terms, I had a backaches last week.
Your husband stomped in the bathtub
like a birthing calf, the rubbers snapped,
and matches replaced Bics. Out of your bedroom,
pillows hide fins, bunnyslippers point like toes.
http://www.poems.com/coyotshe.htm
10:32 AM
Goddam, fencepost, choke on it
in the floodlit closures outside--
rectangular splints and stillness--steep drop
from which kangaroos balance
and stay hidden.
Gardening, flower gardening, filth
of reward and continuation, leaving temporarily.
Ignore the inchworm removing flesh.
You (stop me from zoning out)
You can't stand away from your recliner, shorter than art,
To ignore or dismiss a time
near this recliner, pulltab rising straight from the upholstery
and a full name printed on it, on it
reasonably: fine calligraphy slanted
common and integrated.
Then the place, the robotic numbers, the weekly
epitath.
These are mechanics, fencepost, these
kitties, who left you twice
out of your rec-room where
I, a calculator--buffed--do I
run parallel to the rectangulars of my full portrait or push
my business card's monograph?
Places crumpled inside me.
Above me the tiled linoleum
and just here stood a woman near
the recliner.
I throw up without fail.
I show the earth...whatever.
Places died near me.
Me, buddy.
http://www.poems.com/willolev.htm
11:42 AM
Greg Purcell | noslander2006@yahoo.com
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EXAMPLE:
"Teams do not go physically flat, they grow mentally stale." Vince Lombardi
"An individual does come spiritually puffed, and dies fresh on his feet." Erased Vince Lombardi
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