Posts tagged John Kinsella.

adjust the speed of the skin,
set the aperture of feeling,
draw sun sky and all into
that black old camera —

see through the back of your eye.


    — John Kinsella, from mimic: a blindman’s view of the sunset

Posted by weissewiese
  










Asked about Marilyn
he shuffles uncomfortably — outside, in the

spaces between parrots & fruit trees,
the stubble rots & the day fails to sparkle.


    — John Kinsella, from Warhol at Wheatlands 

Posted by weissewiese
  










he went to his lover
and she comforted him —

in the palm of her hand
he was dust.


    — John Kinsella, from Fragments from a World without Water

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Some polluted places are so beautiful
they make you weep buckets…


    — John Kinsella, from some: an ode to the partitive article

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The rose, the cockatoo,
the failure of colour as whiteness
merges with sunlight.


    — John Kinsella, from “a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose” 

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The horses rear in their stalls
the dogs are howling
the cows roll their eyes at the moon
and the bull in the pasture bellows
this may be the world’s last night
don’t waste it.


    — John Kinsella and Dorothy Hewett, from The Wild Things

Posted by weissewiese