Friday, April 19, 2013

Poem of the Day #19

Found Poem: 21 lines from many books (and a few objects)

Mary in a cafe drinking Sioux City sarsaparilla
The broken check work of the steel girders against the sky.
They put soup in front of her but she couldn't manage it.
She threw vodka in on top of the tea.
There was every kind of news in the paper: accidents, shipwrecks, sports and politics.
She stood up and closed her eyes.
Absentee landlords had long been a feature of the Irish landscape.
She wished to God it was all over. The country had gone mad.
Billy had told her as soon as they met in front of Nick's that both their names were on the list.
She remembered when they rode in clear mountain mornings
"Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow because even today I still arrive" he said.
After the second wedding, the former Miss Wei stopped having bad dreams.
Two tiny Art Deco teacups, white and rusty brown.
"I'd be your best man if you wanted me too," Billy offered.
Romantic love easily becomes the overblown flower of the ego's desire for unique value
The next morning fog wove birch and yew and holly trees; in the clearing a naked figure leaped and cavorted in the blue dawn.
He retreated suddenly into his bedroom. In the brief solitude of finding his coat, his whole body began to quiver.
The church rose up from the dust of the road, huge brown granite blocks rose skyward to hold the bell tower and the cross of Christ.
Mary saw herself riding down from the mountains to the desert at that hour when thunderstorms and sunsets caparison the sky.
She drank more tea.

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