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I ALWAYS KNEW
I always knew poetry Was sentimentality Which only the dearest hearts expressed. Philosophy is cold, But not the heart that is distressed. It’s not that poetry sings, Though sentiment is close to...
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LET’S DO IT AGAIN! ANOTHER SCARRIET HOT 100 POETRY LIST!
Yone Noguchi and Joaquin Miller: How curiously they would gaze on us today! This latest Hot 100 List is mostly comprised of very brief quotes from poems in BAP 2015—now the most collectible volume in...
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MY DIFFICULT NAME
I have a theory that you will be more difficult If you have a difficult name. When I kissed the two of you, whose names were the same, Whose names were very common, I knew Humility, not difficulty,...
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THE JEALOUSY OF THE UGLY
The jealousy of the ugly Forbids you and I. The morality of the ugly Prefers the beautiful die. Beauty belongs to nature. Kurt Cobain— Remember him, with his hurt and pain— Said, “nature is a...
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HEART OPERATION
When love died, and they removed my heart, I asked them, upon waking, Did you get it all? I loved her, winter, spring, summer, and fall, A memory for every type of love: I see them all. The winter...
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LET’S REDUCE EVERYTHING TO LOVE
“Einstein For Beginners” will never work. A little information makes you look like a jerk. Do you remember what you were doing When you first heard of light-years? Do you remember what you were doing...
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WHO WILL BE KIND TO ME?
Kindness is advertised, and I am told, Kindness is better than desperate love, desperate and bold, Or passionate love, inquisitive and sly. William Butler Yeats has said that a kindness will charm...
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NINETEEN ORIGINAL SCARRIET LOVE EPIGRAMS
1. Love is 90% hygiene. 2. Love was invented by poetry, because poetry can be defined as a potential conversation in the mind and to be attracted to someone in a civilized manner is to imagine what...
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I CAN NO LONGER HATE AND LOVE
I can no longer hate and love. No more of this casual dating. Loving the one you hate is a prison. There’s a beauty in simply hating. I can no longer hate and love Like Catullus, whose single book...
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HERE AT LAST
Here at last, I make my confession: I never cared about any of you— I chose poetry as my profession So nobody else could tell me what to do. Restaurants, stadiums, fancy clubs, Expensive cars and...
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THE HUMAN RACE IS DISGUSTED
Observe, as you lounge in one place, At some busy café—you, too, will be disgusted by the human race. The picky ordering, customers unsatisfied; The nerdy college couple who kiss each other’s hands...
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NATIONAL POETRY DAY, OCTOBER 1
What did you do on Poetry Day? Did you look at someone you love—and quickly look away? Did you write a poem, and feel awkward doing so? Awkward—because of what all bright days and all dark branches...
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ART COVERS UP
Art covers up everything that we would like to do. This is your painting. And here—over here—stands you. To acquire that skill takes a certain amount of work. You gave up. In your soul the lazy...
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U.S.A.
I remember when my country was young; Day-time World Series—on television sets in store windows—watched by everyone Who shrugged off assassinations and other black-and-white news With candlelight...
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WHAT MISSES US
“Love is an accident” —old saying What misses us—is not—you and me. Desire is slavery—and you and I are free. How did this warm evening find you and I together at the entrance of the park Where on...
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IS RENOIR PORN?
The Large Bathers—Pierre-Auguste Renoir Renoir was in his mid-forties when he devoted four years on his famous “The Large Bathers” (1887), perhaps his most ambitious painting. Will RSAP—the “Renoir...
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WHY ARE PEOPLE UGLY
Why are people ugly? Because otherwise sex would drive the human race mad. Ugly people having sex isn’t sexy. It isn’t sexy. It’s sad. That’s why the truly sexy are miserable, too. I want to be your...
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MY MORNING IS YOUR EVENING
for c.s. My morning is your evening: I think, I worry—as your day’s cares float away. My evening is your morning, My dreams, your day. When morning light blinds me And Boston trains noisily run, Your...
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ART APPRECIATION
Incapable of love, All you do is seduce. You are not the real fruit— But the perfume, the juice. Incapable of thought, You fashion the noose. You revel in surfaces. Your philosophy: the excuse....
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UNTIL I’M CAPTURED AGAIN
Until I’m captured again I will love the chain, and pretend You are on the other end. You captured me—almost—completely. But since no one is ever free— Again and again you torture me, For that is...
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