UNTITLED COLLAGE POEM
O’ my love is like a red, red rose
So deep in love I am
for hope that one might show me way of salvation
O’ Cyclops would you feed on my companions
and I will love thee still, my dear,
your last hour has come, you die in blood
and I will come again my love.
It is not well forever to be grieving.
So much depends
a turquoise square
balanced on tall
by the green
When a fire breaks out on a small
abandoned trailer, everyone is there.
Dust covers all and takes no prisoners.
Hey, I see a lone coyote over there. No one
followed him to this desolate place.
Yes, you’re in Bay, Arkansas.
Lack of talent in making lists and/or friends
Lists of things I have in my other junk drawer
A junk drawer
Untitled collage poem
Counting the slow heartbeats
The ships are perfect, impersonal machines.
Yet the huge storm will burst upon their heads one day.
They are lifelike but without emotion.
Who were you and I?
We have seen only natural shapes.
As we are, here, together, now and here.
Only at this point does a plot develop.
A—red with shame, the scorn of the people, every voice grows loud.
E—brown of rust, sharp as razors, the pitchfork works on.
I—searching for radio waves, at the top of the building, glistens silver as ever.
O—black empty space, nothing enters of leaves, who will find me?
U—galloping in the distance. The gallop echoes, gray as birds.
Y—180 degrees. The line is supplementary, and as gray as graphite.
Bay High School
Dates of Visit: February 24 – 25, 2014
Faculty Sponsor: Susan Vestal
Grade Levels: 8, 9, 10
Appx. Number Students Served: 100
Visiting Writers: Kevin Corbett and David Kinzer