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Thirteen Ways of Looking at 50+ Years of Poetry


David W. Parsley

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David W. Parsley

THIRTEEN WAYS OF LOOKING AT 50+ YEARS OF POETRY

 

I.

Among twenty snowy mountains

the only moving thing

was the drum of the printer.

 

II.

I was of three three three

Ahem, I was of a mind to

and there was this tree three three

blackbirds droppings into my minds

and a possum

I really wouldn’t mind no sop or taters

nothing himself the nothing that is

 

III.

The blackbird whirled in late autumn winds.

It was a shrinking part of the pantomime.

 

IV.

 

A man and a woman

pruning a blackbird

could consider

themselves One. . . . . . . . . . . . And the rose was

A man and a blackbird . . . . . . . telling

strumming ukulele lemmings . . .the old old story.

would denigrate

and ask with all . . . . . . . . . .. . .Such fun it was. . . . . . . I think I should start

sincerity who is . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .one too and why not.

talking over there.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Narcissus in a convex . ..Nobody talks about

I'm not kidding, we're . . . . .. . .mirror would . . . . . . . .. the night we changed

just making a . . . . . . . . .. ... . .smell as sweet. . . . . . . the mattress covers,

mess of things. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . and never

... more ... . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . ..oh . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . more - hey! So not cool,

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . this isn't a raven

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . over here, you know.

more . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .more . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .If you yourself never

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Nevermore

Like the pallid bust . . . . . . . . .I prefer myself in . . . . ...What was I saying?

thing with filigree . . . . . . . . . ..portraiture, so,

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . .. . . ..unless my stockings . . ...quoth

Definitely more . . . . . . . . . . ..catch a concave eye . ... quoth . .. nevermore

 

 

V.

I do not know which to prefer,

The beauty of self absorption

Or the beauty of in you end dose,

The blackbird whistling

Or just after. Or a long time after.

 

VI.

When the blackbird took out the long frosted window

it was open house on everyone and foreknown truths

were all better now, even for popes and kids,

because nakedness was the shield they got,

and my shadow

crossing their secrets again and again with creative angst -

nothing indecipherable but a few hairs and cloth.

Eye epic, the cheerleader makes a pure A in perfect praise.

 

VII.

O thin man of ham hand I

have caught you imagining a golden bird

flew up my skirt while I tried to beat

it down to the stirrups as the tour went by.

Obediently the quarter spat from my lip

and you returned blackbird fleshy

swimming past my bats with your lantern

in tow. Give it back

right now. Give.

 

VIII - Kant Toast.

Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis

meis vidi in ampulla pendere: ouchus ug ug ug

 

I know noble accents

And lucid, inescapable rhythms

And use them every chance I get

Though born in a savage country;

. . . . . . chez blackbird du Mauberley! Et tu?

But I know, too, that Kung and Li

And a meddlesome flock are going to get involved

In what I can tell you I know

And it better not have a before or behind.

 

IX.

 

So little depends

upon

 

a pitch and copper

doghouse

 

grazed by pot

holes

 

pursuant the pack

barking

 

the last blackbird

from view.

 

X.

So we saw ‘em, dude,

blackbirds flying around

and we had a green light,

when the bods got all euphonious like

crying out real sharp.

Cool.

 

XI.

she rode over Connecticut

in a glass coach how of a why

a fear pierced her in the furnished soul

when the goat-headed blackbird

whistled far . . and . . . . wee

 

XII.

The river is frozen

The broken necked blackbird

Must be nose nudging balls of blood

With his shadow which is naked

And silent and learning

 

XIII.

It was evening all afternoon.

It had snowed days ago

and it was going to snow

again again.

The blackbird O.D.ed

in the cedar limbs.

 

 

 

 

 

NOTE: The heading for each section links to the original posting of that individual section.

This gives the curious reader access to PMO commentary as well as links to poems being parodied/satirized.

 

Previously unpublished

© David W. Parsley 2013

Parsley Poetry Collection

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I think it's great what you've done with this, Dave. You introduced each of them separately, with relevant discussion in their corresponding threads, and now you've included all of them in one attractive topic. Thanks for posting this "collected" topic.

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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David W. Parsley

Thanks, Tony, and welcome back! PMO just isn't the same without your particular stamp of warmth and insight.

 

And a heart-felt thank you to all who helped me shape and ultimately understand this piece.

 

- Dave

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David, I derive pleasure from your works, not having the focus or will to pursue the fineries of your art. Just as with music, there must be listeners. Thank you. Paco

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