rifflingthepages.blogspot.com

Riffling the Pages

Wednesday, April 26, 2006. Before you, life was unbearable -. A flat screen and ping pong ball. But oh, you sleek grey box,. You already wrapped present! We sat in front of you, awed. As if you were the first red sunrise. We burned a horseshoe. Of permanent round circles into the rug. With our asses — a communion. Of Afghani, Puerto Rican, Korean kids. Trying to unpeel the secrets of a mustached. Plumber who swallowed mushrooms,. Zapped dumb-eyed turtles, warped. We slept to your lullabies, the digitized.

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Riffling the Pages | rifflingthepages.blogspot.com Reviews

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Wednesday, April 26, 2006. Before you, life was unbearable -. A flat screen and ping pong ball. But oh, you sleek grey box,. You already wrapped present! We sat in front of you, awed. As if you were the first red sunrise. We burned a horseshoe. Of permanent round circles into the rug. With our asses — a communion. Of Afghani, Puerto Rican, Korean kids. Trying to unpeel the secrets of a mustached. Plumber who swallowed mushrooms,. Zapped dumb-eyed turtles, warped. We slept to your lullabies, the digitized.

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1 skip to main

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7 no comments

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9 white towels

10 richard jones

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Riffling the Pages | rifflingthepages.blogspot.com Reviews

https://rifflingthepages.blogspot.com

Wednesday, April 26, 2006. Before you, life was unbearable -. A flat screen and ping pong ball. But oh, you sleek grey box,. You already wrapped present! We sat in front of you, awed. As if you were the first red sunrise. We burned a horseshoe. Of permanent round circles into the rug. With our asses — a communion. Of Afghani, Puerto Rican, Korean kids. Trying to unpeel the secrets of a mustached. Plumber who swallowed mushrooms,. Zapped dumb-eyed turtles, warped. We slept to your lullabies, the digitized.

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rifflingthepages.blogspot.com

1

Riffling the Pages: Gamesmanship

http://rifflingthepages.blogspot.com/2006/04/gamesmanship.html

Wednesday, April 26, 2006. Before you, life was unbearable -. A flat screen and ping pong ball. But oh, you sleek grey box,. You already wrapped present! We sat in front of you, awed. As if you were the first red sunrise. We burned a horseshoe. Of permanent round circles into the rug. With our asses — a communion. Of Afghani, Puerto Rican, Korean kids. Trying to unpeel the secrets of a mustached. Plumber who swallowed mushrooms,. Zapped dumb-eyed turtles, warped. We slept to your lullabies, the digitized.

2

Riffling the Pages: November 2004

http://rifflingthepages.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html

Tuesday, November 23, 2004. Poet of the week - Rita Dove. We couldn't resist posting one of the pieces from her brand-new book,. Thank the stars there's a day. Each week to tuck in. The grief, lift your pearls, and. As Nat King Cole's. Slow satin smile,. One day at a time:. Rib to rib,. With no heartbreak in sight—. Just the sweep of Paradise. And the space of a song. To count all the wonders in it. For more on Rita Dove, visit Poetry Daily. Also Rita Dove's home page. Posted by E. Collison. The windows ...

3

Riffling the Pages: January 2005

http://rifflingthepages.blogspot.com/2005_01_01_archive.html

Sunday, January 02, 2005. Veritas sequitur . . . In the small beauty of the forest. The wild deer bedding down -. That they are there! Effortless, the soft lips. Nuzzle and the alien small teeth. Tear at the grass. The roots of it. Dangle from their mouths. Scattering earth in the strange woods. They who are there. Nibbled thru the fields, the leaves that shade them. Hang in the distances. In this in which the wild deer. Startle, and stare out. Quotation from George Oppen,. Posted by E. Collison.

4

Riffling the Pages: Seamus Heaney

http://rifflingthepages.blogspot.com/2005/05/seamus-heaney.html

Friday, May 27, 2005. As a child, they could not keep me from wells. And old pumps with buckets and windlasses. I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells. Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss. One, in a brickyard, with a rotted board top. I savoured the rich crash when a bucket. Plummeted down at the end of a rope. So deep you saw no reflection in it. A shallow one under a dry stone ditch. Fructified like any aquarium. When you dragged out long roots from the soft mulch. Posted by E. Collison.

5

Riffling the Pages: Late summer

http://rifflingthepages.blogspot.com/2005/08/late-summer.html

Sunday, August 28, 2005. Out in the garden. The bugs have stopped their chirping. On this rainy night -. But from the wall comes the sound. Of a single cricket. Has dawn come so soon? The grass I trampled before. Is white with dew. When I return through the fields. After a night with the moon. From Waiting for the Wind - Thirty-Six Poets of Japan's Late Medieval Age. Translated by Stephen D. Carter (Columbia University Press, 1989). Posted by E. Collison.

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rifflingthepages.blogspot.com

Riffling the Pages

Wednesday, April 26, 2006. Before you, life was unbearable -. A flat screen and ping pong ball. But oh, you sleek grey box,. You already wrapped present! We sat in front of you, awed. As if you were the first red sunrise. We burned a horseshoe. Of permanent round circles into the rug. With our asses — a communion. Of Afghani, Puerto Rican, Korean kids. Trying to unpeel the secrets of a mustached. Plumber who swallowed mushrooms,. Zapped dumb-eyed turtles, warped. We slept to your lullabies, the digitized.

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