Raymond Cummings

Free Poetry For freepoetryfor.blogspot.com

Raymond Cummings

Free Poetry For freepoetryfor.blogspot.com

Using Focus The first couplet gets your foot in the door. And what of the room? Maybe hopes hung on axioms or draped over highbacked desecrations of phrase. Insider slang, lexical punk. Swap out syllogisms; tie you up. Silver pocketed and then the fixtures, bail.

The Joy of Cooking: Poems, 2010 to 2011 Dedicated to Christopher S. Cummings, 19912011

Using Focus The first couplet gets your foot in the door. And what of the room? Maybe hopes hung on axioms or draped over highbacked desecrations of phrase. Insider slang, lexical punk. Swap out syllogisms; tie you up. Silver pocketed and then the fixtures, bail.

The Joy of Cooking: Poems, 2010 to 2011 Dedicated to Christopher S. Cummings, 19912011

Your Eyelash in Ruins We were in and out of Tudors. All-points bollocked and to Come flying at me aghast Spread the risk around. Your bold lashes wag-batted lam like China fine, Pollocks you cached in compacts. I palmed Gehrys, Lifted aesthetics. This was summer.

Your Eyelash in Ruins We were in and out of Tudors. All-points bollocked and to Come flying at me aghast Spread the risk around. Your bold lashes wag-batted lam like China fine, Pollocks you cached in compacts. I palmed Gehrys, Lifted aesthetics. This was summer.

The Valley Crowning and darkness is belief, enjambed with diodes, as if the horizon abjured were a crown to don so gingerly not the city, gazing idly back.

The Joy of Cooking Cardinals, soot, shocks of cirrus that Linger on the palette: cruel. I would Argue that by collaging, we misrepresent Riffling through barre chords until You find the right erector sets Psychopathically arrayed, or season To taste. For emphasis, yes, but isnt coming on like cooking up?

The Valley Crowning and darkness is belief, enjambed with diodes, as if the horizon abjured were a crown to don so gingerly not the city, gazing idly back.

The Joy of Cooking Cardinals, soot, shocks of cirrus that Linger on the palette: cruel. I would Argue that by collaging, we misrepresent Riffling through barre chords until You find the right erector sets Psychopathically arrayed, or season To taste. For emphasis, yes, but isnt coming on like cooking up?

Cut, Print We shot this season in flyspecked pinks. Aphids pinned to cork. A Pilgrimage through Decca. The promise of More: doped Scolds nodding Beyond the sacrificial frame. Total recoil, gallery applause. (On the soundtrack: band saw and Leaf blower, arguing semantics.) Dollies to dailies, an album of us.

Elision Bepop Language treed and penumbrae in abeyance Conjugating filaments until the lights bled me

Cut, Print We shot this season in flyspecked pinks. Aphids pinned to cork. A Pilgrimage through Decca. The promise of More: doped Scolds nodding Beyond the sacrificial frame. Total recoil, gallery applause. (On the soundtrack: band saw and Leaf blower, arguing semantics.) Dollies to dailies, an album of us.

Elision Bepop Language treed and penumbrae in abeyance Conjugating filaments until the lights bled me

Received Ideas About Language Whether you caught my eye In cupped palm or by fingertips grip, I was going through a phrase, casing the point.

How to Steal This Poem In concert with thumb, secure X-Acto against forefinger. Press blade near spine at the north page edge: incise south at a trawl. (Bite lip.) Soft, now: hangnailed cuts are the province of small-claims court degenerates, curs, the faint of Artforum. Folded in halves, creased, delivered unto the threadbare myth of your billfold. What happens next is immaterial.

Received Ideas About Language Whether you caught my eye In cupped palm or by fingertips grip, I was going through a phrase, casing the point.

How to Steal This Poem In concert with thumb, secure X-Acto against forefinger. Press blade near spine at the north page edge: incise south at a trawl. (Bite lip.) Soft, now: hangnailed cuts are the province of small-claims court degenerates, curs, the faint of Artforum. Folded in halves, creased, delivered unto the threadbare myth of your billfold. What happens next is immaterial.

Scratch Gently with Coin III. Tunnels fellate trams with fanfare (Arthritis of ore = tinnitus of flesh.) Aroused, tags fluoresce at

If I Blew a Hiss Would you exorcise your Cthulic rite to writhe in a cage if I blew you a hiss?

radium volume

exaggerated notions of selfhood, a neophytes no-go rococo II. Speakers bludgeoned, singles going shreddy. I. Curled on a sill.

Scratch Gently with Coin III. Tunnels fellate trams with fanfare (Arthritis of ore = tinnitus of flesh.) Aroused, tags fluoresce at

If I Blew a Hiss Would you exorcise your Cthulic rite to writhe in a cage if I blew you a hiss?

radium volume

exaggerated notions of selfhood, a neophytes no-go rococo II. Speakers bludgeoned, singles going shreddy. I. Curled on a sill.