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Bitlets 45Is it necessary for my neighbors to communicate
with each other by beating themselves on the wall?
ShelterThe wind is heaving in cloudbursts,
urging me forward with pelvic gusts
towards local storefronts coerced
to acquiesce with the storm front.
My breath bends inwards in outbursts:
gimme shelter or gimme comfort.
I let the thought whirl and disperse;
the hearsay after the hearse click-clunks
with the wind heaving in cloudbursts,
the six lanes of traffic slow to confront
the November burial. It is un
How To Write A Villanelle In Its Many FormsWarning: Fixed Form Poetry Approaching
The villanelle is a fixed form of poetry originating from the French that has grown in popularity in the English language. Over the years, the traditional villanelle has been put to great use by many notable poets, including, Dylan Thomas, Sylvia Plath, Elizabeth Bishop, Edwin Arlington Robinson, Theodore Roethke, and Oscar Wilde (double villanelle in traditional). There are also many wonderful, more modern and progressive examples of the form by poets today, such as
ShivaI am a haven for shiva
because there has been no funeral after.
Of the dead under my cad hands, hers
are still soft flesh leaving us,
me. While others have at her
I am a haven for amoebas.
And I remember she was:
a culture, a scavenger, a laissez passer—
of the dead under my padded hands, hers
are still vulture's lungs breathing us,
in. I am not inhaling her, rather
I am a haven for keeping dust.
There was never a moment of eureka!
and epiphany. But the harasser
of the dead are under my bandages: her.
I'll leave her…
I have to have her…
I am a haven for the diva
de los muertos under my cadaver.
Futility (For Bill)"You agree because futility doesn't offer many options."
— Bill (`GeneratingHype) September 26, 2009
No— futility never does.
It is that cruelty, that at ports and harbors
considers warmer and farther-
that occupy a swollen street corner.
Futility never does
ensure that a man who listens
to what you say towards the heart of
considerably warmer and far more
founded docks and flowered gardens
will learn of your mourner's
futility. Never does
your answer become more than less
of an offer:
considerate, warmer, and farther.
Would you hear your words like us?
Like they will be heard forever—
— No. futility never does
consider or warn our forefathers.
Bitlets 43There is a 'd' in the first syllable
of what I call my parent's father:
grand-father, grand-dad, grand-pa.
That letter is never pronounced
by myself with both syllables intact
It simply becomes 'gran' to me:
gran-father, gran-dad, gran-pa.
And when my Granpa Bob says,
"Nic, you are my oldest grandson—
oldest grandchild at that—
and you are at an age where
you can still apply your skills
and do something with yourself.
I can't, I'm a fifty-something-year-old man;
a father of three children
and a grandfather to six.
I cannot go out and start,
but you have that opportunity
and I can't watch you
throw your life away."
He has identified some potential
in me that I haven't detected,
and that may be why I have
never taken him seriously.
But he pronounces the 'd'
when he is talking about me
while I mumble, "I know Granpa."
I don't pronounce the 'd,'
and perhaps it is a matter
of when I will be granted
the use of that letter,
in all its grandness.
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