Skip to content
{ 2008 03 12 }

POEM FOR JACK SPICER

GRISAILLE AND SANGUINE

 

 

White horses of advertisements, or so—

How quickly our habits pass backward—

 

A lucky strike, an arrow central

Or a ball spinning proper to the pin—

 

This paper punches, the black on white

With splash of red for memory—

 

Every recollection of death

And every contention with the present—

 

When we’re certain you’re still alive.

Posted by Scott Zieher on Wednesday, March 12, 2008, at 3:32 pm. Filed under poetry. Follow any responses to this post with its comments RSS feed. You can post a comment or trackback from your blog.

Post a Comment

You must be logged in to post a comment.