#AmericanWriters
After your death, Naomi, your hair will escape to be… a round animal, nameless.
Always your face like a space (Destination: beautiful) ship Empties its mote of closeup trace Down screens that blink blank blip Somewhere between countdown
One day we notice that the sun needs feeding. Immediately a crash program begins: we fill ro… with wheat, smoke-rings, razorblad… after long aiming
is thought to be a confession, won… torture, but which our interrogato… hate to record’all those old cod… the standard narrative of sandpape… throats, even its remorse, fall ig…
(Nonasyllabics) In retrospect the tragic nature of sea is a taste wept too daily, too depleted by freedom’s rupture; the eyes have other secrets to see
All it takes is Laura Riding’s ri… crop across my butt, and I’m off: Git-up horsie she cries astride me… I crash sweetly onto the carpet. Boredom what an esthetic,
From the trees the leaves came dow… until we joined hands with a wand and that act enabled them somehow then to reach the ground where they scuttered round our fee…
Finally the day dawned when a mono… world So it went looking for its stockho… But they were all owned by it they… someplace
I’m tired of murdering children. Once, long ago today, they wanted… now I feel Vietnam the place where rigor mortis is beginning to… I force silence down the throats o…
Note: Tomlinson is not only a distinctive poet, but a visual artist of repute. His graphics grace the covers of many of his books. This Homage attempts to imitate his verse style, or ...
Who whispers here is forgotten. Saliva’s emptiest fruit adorns the stones, words ripening your mouth to a spoilation
Satiety help me I have inhabit of this world. Extant upon its des… to be more aimlessly fluttering at the window, to shadow all the patt… it offers each sun. In frames far…
'My age, my beast!' - Osip Man… On the lips a taste of tolling we… The light drifts like dust over fa… We wear masks on our genitals You’ve heard of lighting cigarette…
We brush the other, invisible moon… Its caves come out and carry us in…
As much as someone could plow in o… They called an acre; As much as a person could die in o… A lifetime—