Gwerful Mechain

Re: Word: Gwerful Mechain

  This poem first appeared in the October 2012 issue of B O D...
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kirstenirving

Kirsten Irving

we all have holes somewhere. you forget / just how what’s the word? / poor. porous. how porous we are.

kirstenirving

Kirsten Irving

That mouth. That mouth is your homeland’s embassy / in a foreign country, when you have been robbed / and your son is gone...

Gwerful Mechain

Gwerful Mechain

Her fuzz was the fuzz of a first rate ballsack, / her welcoming knothole electric and sud-slick! / I say: let the silence end, and bless this bright circle...

DafyddapGwylym (2)

Dafydd ap Gwilym

you wetted stump who gasps milk, you crude homage / to a shoot with her bud. Not one more twitch, / you cursed baton, you crooked clutch / who dreams to be the axle of a girl's two halves...

Rimbaud by Verlaine

THE POEM: Jon Stone On Rimbaud’s “Au Cabaret-Vert, cinq heures du soir”

Sometimes I think Rimbaud’s writings should be banned. Banned, that is, from being put before flouncy male literature students eager to reimagine themselves as dashing and romantic, since as a semi-mythical icon of artsy hedonism and unbridled passion, Rimbaud is dangerous medicine.

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