This morning a Google search for "kubla khan multiple choice questions" led some poor soul to this humble blog, Big Window. In honor of this sparkly instance of waywardness, this happy accident, please provide a multiple choice question about the great Khan below.
I love this poem by Hoa Nguyen that I swiped (shamelessly!) from Chris Murray’s valentines day post over at the Tex Files. Love calls for Hades cold cream’Love talks in picture code and Valentines Let’s eat red for fun eat tragicomedies Epic red-lovewashes all Valentines … Continue reading Love acc. to Hoa Nguyen
You might come here Sunday on a whim.Say your life broke down. The last good kissyou had was years ago. You walk these streetslaid out by the insane, past hotelsthat didn’t last, bars that did, the tortured tryof local drivers to accelerate their lives.Only churches are kept up. The jailturned 70 this year. The only… Continue reading Degrees of Gray in Philipsburg by Richard Hugo
It’s a quiet Saturday. Sky of white to grey. Just picked up a stack of literary magazines at Brazos Bookstore: Bloom, Jubilat, Pool, Sentence, and a few others. There was a CLMP-sponsored book fair going on over there. A stack of poems will help make a sweet little weekend in cloudy, rainy Houston, TX. I’ve… Continue reading Quiet Saturday
Others about the embarking have reasons. I holding shreds carpenter leavings. Motions in the wind, wave rolling disturb sad plots, disturbing sad plots. Desolate places on the grass where birds are a light, Gather in midsummer, wood shingles, visionary house. Taking glances from tree to eave, bicyclist, car, dark green spots for the movement of… Continue reading LEICA by Barbara Guest
Have you checked out the cool new art & poetry collaborative projects at born magazine yet? Their winter issue is on their web site now. The poets featured include Michele Glazer and Bob Hicok.
What If There Is No Ice What if there is no iceno Liz no X no equal signno skin on the lake for an answerno long gone winter songno throng of mournersblack in coats against the white dikes that line the sides of roadswhen plows have passed What if there is no lakeno wet mouth… Continue reading What If There Is No Ice by Ander Monson
I’d better answer that question about oranges before somebody uses all the ones I can remember. What a surprise that Shanna knows about The Orange Show! It’s not a poem but a wacky folk art place dedicated to THE ORANGE here in Houston. Without further ado, here’s "Sunday Morning" by Wallace Stevens. I hadn’t remembered… Continue reading Sunday Morning by Wallace Stevens
Write a poem that is actually one long sentence. It must contain one of each of these things: a small animal (i.e. tree frog, gecko, etc.) a brand name (i.e. Mazola, Hasbro, Taco Bell) a synonym for road a color a date (i.e. February 18) the word “scratch” somebody’s name a loud noise The sequence… Continue reading One
1st This is what you must know: (this is the background of the story, the foundation, the 1) the city is white 2) most cities are white 3) All cities are white; it’s in their nature, by definition and clearly stated 4) that… Continue reading 1st by Cole Swensen
There are a whole bunch of literary magazines sprawling across my desk, and I've been grooving to them. On deck we have: eye-rhyme: Journal of Experimental Literature, Spinning Jenny, The Canary, and POOL. I'm amazed at the diversity and beauty of literary publications that's available these days. Here's a poem from POOL that I reread… Continue reading Periodically
Last month I heard Sophie Cabot Black read from her new book The Descent at Brazos Bookstore in Houston. Afterwards, I couldn’t stop thinking about the poems, so I ordered the book. Now I’m steeping in these lyrics of quiet intensity. The phrase "quiet intensity" is a poetry cliche of sorts, so I want to… Continue reading The Descent by Sophie Cabot Black
Let the snake wait underhis weedand the writingbe of words, slow and quick, sharpto strike, quiet to wait,sleepless.— through metaphor to reconcilethe people and the stones.Compose. (No ideasbut in things) Invent!Saxifrage is my flower that splitsthe rocks. William Carlos Williams
In oPen 11 I provided half a poem. Here’s the poem by Ralph Angel in its entirety: This Today, my love,leaves are thrashing the windjust as pedestrians are erecting again the buildings of this drabforbidding city,and our lives, as I lose track of them,are the lives of others derailing in time andgetting things done.Impossible to… Continue reading Source Code 11
I’ve got to tell you how I love you always I think of it on grey mornings with death in my mouth the tea is never hot enough then and the cigarette dry the maroon robe chills me I need you and look out the window at the noiseless snow At night on the dock… Continue reading Morning by Frank O’hara