a place to share artistic (mostly literary) interests
Monday, February 21, 2011
Two Poems by Clark Coolidge (from the collection Own Face)
The Icing Up It Turns To for M.P.'s without music
When, meaning where, will the wire go down, meaning would, beneath the portion of tree, substitute cracking, effected by the lower portion, mood, of the sprung cloud, signifying an uncompleted lace or lack of power. A lash of wisdom for the bending.
But It Says Nothing
But it says nothing. And one is as quiet as if to say nothing moves me. Then there is the chair. And one speaks of the chair sitting at the table. Scraping against surfaces, opening the mouth. The object is a piece of thing before. One shifts in a chair and opens the talk. And the time it says nothing one moves. The table is too long as the wall. Not a thing but it stays and one opens as a mouth will begin. Speaking of the table, nothing but to avoid that of the wall. One could return over and over to the chair, the wall one is sitting at. Least ways it says nothing. And the thing is, it stays still before speaking of. The object of nothing, even speech.