Author: admin

The Miller and the Gleaner

Behold her, single in the field,
Caught in the center of a soundless field,
Across the millstream below the bridge…
Earth has not anything to show more fair.

Diligent in the burnt fields above the sea,
A sweet disorder in the dress,
Hair — braided chestnut…
Love, unrequited, robs me of my rest.

Bill Waters, 2015

Remixed Works:
First lines of poems by William Wordsworth,
Philip Larkin, Howard Nemerov,
Josephine Miles, Robert Herrick,
Jean Toomer, and W. S. Gilbert.

Beside the Black River

A gold light,
a diffusion of sunlight,
from everywhere
and from nowhere at once;
now, beside the black river,
the sorrow is all there is to prolong

The world shall pass from the earth;
good will bloom, strong and clean;
and all that suffered through having existed
shall be forgotten

Christina Murphy, 2015

Remixed Work:
There is a Gold Light in Certain Old Paintings, by Donald Justice

Domestic Disturbance

I am a man at home
folding my wife’s delicates.
Well, why the hell not?

Most certainly stop in,
a city of red fire
growing from your head,
hooligans dressed
in red and white everywhere,
a magic thing.

Outside, there’s a ruckus, as usual.
It begins with the flies.
Noisy, black flies.
I do not know exactly when. . . .

My own mother is 98.
Mostly now she sleeps,
and when she does,
what she dreams
is small enough to fit
in the palm of your hand.

Howie Good, 2015

Remixed works:

Posts from submishmash, 6 November 2015

A Very Sad Poem

by
George Eliot Jibson

a dead man, eyes set,
limbs stiff, made of iron
said good-night and walked off
on his legs – soul
loose from his body

walking home near four o’clock
buttoning his coat he set off
undertaking a remarkable feat
of locomotion through gathering mist
in darkness
his feet dragging along

on-coming of daylight
veiled by falling
trackless snow
touched consciousness
chilled and faint
turning towards a
red uncertain heart

a man little short of madness
believing the testimony
of an angel who knows
deep sorrow and despair
lived life like the spider
in his solitude
love at last finished
he sat in loneliness
and moaned very low

David Jibson, 2015

Remixed Work:
Silas Marner, by George Eliot

Rust Belt Americana

Searching for Pittsburgh
Going there
To see if something comes next
Finding something
How to love the dead

A year later
Explicating the twilight
What is there to say?
A ghost sings, a door opens

Music is the memory of what never happened
Older women
Carrying torches at noon
Tear it down

I imagine the gods
Guilty, haunted importantly
Scheming in the snow
Trying to have something left over

Howie Good, 2015

Remixed Work:
Index titles of The Great Fires, by Jack Gilbert