ok you notice how i go on kicks with this blog?

Generally they last, like, three to five poems: sometimes it's prose poetry, sometimes it's Czech names, sometimes it's month names or winter imagery. This time, it's a fascination with archaic rhymes and language. This too shall pass. The nice thing about writing a poem every day is it's really liberating? I mean I don't want to be writing boatloads of shitty poems, but it's nice to really able to loosen up and do anything I want to with the form, and 'poem' is nicely broad and inclusive. Writing 200 villanelles would absolutely suck. Anyway, here's my (weird... yeah) poem a day.





I believed in you:
in the wrought gate hooked by two pale hands;
the silences; the reprimands;
embraces during sarabandes.
I believed in you,
And bent at your reproof
Like a vine cut from a cottage roof.

I believed in you, I was beggared;
Pity my shoes! Pity their laces!
Pity the portraits of forefathers' faces
That hang on my mantle, jowly and dire,
Like a hairy, humdrum, hangdog choir.
Pity my waistband, pity my hat.
Give me a little relief like that.