Artifact

(Notes found while decluttering)

Poetry Cards – First Friday

1
There are no books in the sea.

2
I dwell in Possibility –
A fairer House than Prose –
(Emily Dickinson)

3
There are love dogs no one knows the names of.
(Rumi)

4
I
m
a
g
i
nation

5
Why look like a dead fish in this ocean of God?
(Rumi)

6
Get on the highway
Make a left at the sun,
then go straight for two thoughts
(S. Lazar, Directions)

7
A red cow at sunset cannot be hid
There is no death like business
(R. Sala, “On a cloudy day facing water”)

8
Strawberry impudence
Wretched chocolate
banilla
banilla
vanilla

9
Kings do not touch doors.
(Francis Ponge, “The Pleasures of the Door”)

10
It must swim for miles through the desert
Uttering cries that are almost human.
(Louis Simpson, American Poetry)

11
Heaven

was only half as far that night

at the poetry recital

(L. Ferlinghetti, ’21’, Pictures of the Gone World)

12
Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!
(A. Ginsberg, Howl)

13
Do you want to acquaint the larks with the fatuous music of war?
(K. Patchen, “The Character of Love Seen as a Search for the Lost”)

14
I trust every animal
but especially I adore
dogs in concert.
(Andrei Vosnesensky, “Dogalypse”)

15
“holding the rose the students had given him, refusing to give it up even when it had faded”
(William Kulik, re: Robert Desnos)

16
I want to sleep the dream of apples,
to remove myself from the tumult of cemeteries.
(Federico García Lorca, “Gacela of Dark Death”)

17
There is no one that giving a kiss does not feel the smile of people without faces.
(Federico García Lorca, “Gacela of Escape”)

18
Chairity
Chairfulness
Chairvoyance

The chair can be a friend to you.

19
how do I interrupt night
in her dark dress dancing

20
Platinum
Possum

21
I, too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all this fiddle.
(Marianne Moore, “Poetry”)

22
imaginary gardens with real toads in them
(Marianne Moore, “Poetry”)

23
water that cleans
flowers that clean
water that cleans as I go…
(Anne Waldman, “Fast Speaking Woman”)

24
Anyway, the time has come to explain
the Golden Eternity
(J. Kerouac, “Poem”)

25
Shut not your doors to me, proud libraries
For that which was lacking on all your well-fill’d shelves, yet needed most, I bring
Forth from the war emerging, a book I have made…
(Walt Whitman)

26
Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me?
And why should I not speak to you?
(Walt Whitman)

27
Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
(e.e. cummings)

28
…poetry makes nothing happen: it survives
In the valley of its making where executives
Would never want to tamper…
(W. H. Auden, “In Memory of W.B. Yeats”)

29
one night — I don’t know where it came from — in a pre-dawn sleep, that funny and tender phrase composed itself: a road-side dog.
(Czeslaw Milosz)

30
when you were dead I said you had gone to the mountain
(Judy Grahn, “a funeral plainsong”)

31
My guardian angel is afraid of the dark.
(Charles Simic, “The World Doesn’t End”)

32
To be a boxer, or not to be there
at all. O Muse, where are our teeming crowds?
(Wis?awa Szymborska, “Poetry Reading”)

33
Women and men (both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain
(e.e. cummings, “Anyone lived in a pretty how town”)

34
“O frabjous day? Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.
(Lewis Carroll, “Jabberwocky”)

35
Since you are empty,
sit still and be empty.
(S. Ironbiter, “Devi”)

36
And as a last breeze freshens the top of the weathered old tower, I turn my gaze
Back to the instruction manual which has made me dream of Guadalajara.
(J. Ashbery, “The Instruction Manual”)

37
The time of minor poets is coming. Good-by Whitman, Dickinson, Frost. Welcome you whose fame will never reach beyond your closest family, and perhaps one or two good friends gathered after dinner over a jug of fierce red wine…
(Charles Simic, “The World Doesn’t End”)

38
Only what is human can truly be foreign.
The rest is mixed vegetation, subversive moles, and wind.
(W. Szymborska, “Psalm”)

39
Poetry, every art, is a flaw and reminds human societies that we are not healthy, even if we confess it with difficulty.
(Czes?aw Mi?osz, “A Flaw”)

40
What could she say to the fantastic foolybear
(L. Ferlinghetti, “A Coney Island of the Mind”)