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A WORD ABOUT LITERARY ACTIVISM
The white guys of High Modernism “Literary activism” has taken center stage recently among the chattering classes, those academics and journalists whose job it is to tell the working class how to...
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IF THEY DO
Do bees sleep and forget their hive? You stroked one’s fur until slumber Woke in him what dreams remember. I do not forget you. A bee’s purpose is alive. In their humming there is no tune. Oh! But...
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I THINK THAT WOMAN
I think that woman is the most profound Of all the creatures. Hers, the love my heart found The more I examined her rural features As she was examining mine— In sweetest, cunning secrecy, With...
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YES! ANOTHER SCARRIET POETRY HOT 100!!!
1. Vanessa Place —The High Creator does not create. 2. Kenneth Goldsmith —Death to the “creative” once and for all. 3. Simon Armitage —Best known for 9/11 poem, wins Oxford Poetry Professorship 4....
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THE TRUTH ABOUT METRICAL POETRY
The truth about beautiful and accomplished metrical poetry is lost and hidden because the most important truth of it has nothing to do with its form: the secret lies with its content. Of course we...
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ATTENTION
The only thing worse than no attention Is too much attention. And love is that perfect compromise Where all the attention that would be too much Lives only in the lover’s eyes. Yes, you had a...
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TODAY I’M GOING TO DECONSTRUCT EVERYTHING
If I’m in a really good mood, and feeling super confident, I look at everything which other people worship and adore And say, “Are you kidding me? Who needs that?” And without getting into the details...
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RED FACED OVER YELLOW FACE.
The author and the soul of Scarriet. As we scanned the internet recently, devouring the recent controversy gossip bubbling up from the bowels of the morally outraged by collisions of...
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WRITTEN FOR A VAN GOGH PAINTING
In our vista, love argues with nature. The long look begins with you. Everything that belongs to a view Begins with your eyes—a looking which love longs to look at, too. Love begins with a looking...
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ALWAYS
The design of the vine. The light on the girl. The ancient, ancient, ancient, world. Some need to drop their clothes. They don’t have one of those: A lovely face with a lovely nose. Some need to...
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OH GOD! EVEN POETRY IS WAR?
The muse of epic poetry’s father? Zeus. We commonly think of sports as war by other means, and some even think of love as war, and the beleaguered, the poor, the clinically depressed among us, sadly...
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HER
Poised between her and her: One who is here and one who is gone. One switched me off and this one switches me on. The one who switched me off was one I loved dearly. The one who switches me on? I see...
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TO LOVE YOU MORE
You strove to be good. And then you met me. I measure myself by how much I can see. I saw your hands and feet And all your other things. And found them sweet. I heard there is a land where those like...
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RANKING THE POEMS IN THE 2015 BEST AMERICAN POETRY
Before we rank the 75, we’d like to observe a few things. The 2015 BAP guest editor Sherman Alexie, in his personal, Foetry-influenced, “Sherman Alexie Speaks Out,” overview of his BAP selection...
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STUPID AND BLIND
“The void is blind but has a mind.” —old poem This guy doesn’t have much to say. But he’ll listen to you, even if you talk to him all day. Stupid is smart. The beautiful offend the ugly more each...
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MISTAKES
To live is to be in error all the time. My poems are mistakes Saved only by their rhyme. You shouldn’t think I know what I am saying In these mistakes, which surely are a mistake to write. I write...
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THE BEST AMERICAN POETRY 2015: A FURTHER LOOK
A.E. Stallings. Is her poem, “Ajar,” the best rhymed poem in BAP 2015? In our previous notice on BAP 2015, we ranked the poems from 75th to 1st (Scarriet, Sept 20, 1915). Ranking is a proper...
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LOVE DOES NOT NEED
Love does not need my help; My poems can be quiet now. All that I asked them to do I got through kisses, anyhow. There’s more than enough sky For stars— see? they gather above In layer upon layer;...
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ENTER PICTURE
Enter picture. Exit poetry. Enter flattery. Farewell truth. Enter crowds. Goodbye muse. Enter vanity. Patience, adieu! Ugh. This poem is crap. It was my eye, not I, who fell in love with you....
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THIS POEM IS EMBARRASSING ME
“When I get you alone…” –old song Love desires privacy. I understand you less and less The more we are intimate. I see more of you in rumor, Less of you in the eye. Privacy demands more privacy. The...
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