Lawrence Beck

Lawrence Beck Poems

1. I Wonder 12/2/2015
2. Almost Like Tv 12/4/2015
3. Two Poems 12/6/2015
4. Not The Apple Of Her Eye 12/7/2015
5. One Day, I Hope 12/8/2015
6. Unexpected Visitor (Extended) 12/9/2015
7. Nocturnal 12/10/2015
8. Three Poems 12/13/2015
9. Accident 12/15/2015
10. Parochialism Reconsidered 12/16/2015
11. Strange 12/21/2015
12. I'll Send You Something From Your Registry 12/23/2015
13. Five In The Morning, December 25 12/25/2015
14. Canine 12/28/2015
15. She'll Know. She May Not Care 12/29/2015
16. Fatal Falls 12/30/2015
17. A.D. 12/31/2015
18. I'm Sorry 1/2/2016
19. Stupid 1/4/2016
20. A Long Time Ago 1/5/2016
21. Awake Before Dawn 1/6/2016
22. Las Vegas At 9: 00 Am On A Tuesday 1/6/2016
23. Given The Choice 1/11/2016
24. Warm 1/11/2016
25. A Fairy Tale 1/11/2016
26. Tangible 1/12/2016
27. Hydra 1/17/2016
28. The Snake's Version 1/18/2016
29. Never Statements, Only Signs 1/19/2016
30. All I Want 1/20/2016
31. The Cutting Edge Comes To The Suburbs 1/21/2016
32. There Was Nothing On Tv And My Pen Went Dry Before I Could Finish My Suicide Note 1/24/2016
33. One Only 1/25/2016
34. Do You Need Burnt Offerings, Or Something? 1/26/2016
35. So Long In Nebraska 1/26/2016
36. Arabesques 1/27/2016
37. No One Heard Them Scream As The Plane Spiraled Downward -new- 1/31/2016
38. Insignificant Other -new- 2/2/2016
39. Cinderella -new- 2/3/2016
40. Somewhere East Of Julesburg -new- 2/5/2016
Best Poem of Lawrence Beck

A Late Fall Day

My past is here, a heap of shards, and, on
A day like this, so gray and cold and
Claustrophobic, I can sit and sort through
Them. I find a walk to second grade
In sloppy snow. The streets are black,
And little rivers run along their sides.
I see my feet in them. A sunny day
Sometime in summer, laying on a
Towel on a rock above a frigid
Stream. I shiver, freshly out of it.
My father's on the other bank. My
Sister's in an inner tube. My guinea
Pig is dead. The neighbor's dog
Came in and killed it in my room.
My own dog at my side, I slip ...

Read the full of A Late Fall Day

Living Inside The Box

I will go back to living the life of the mind,
The mind that is dying, not so much from
Age as from loss of feeling, isolation.
You may say my art has changed for
The better. It's what it had been before
She arrived: sterile and cold to the touch,
Really, dead, an item produced in a
Sealed off facility, textured to make it
Seem gathered outside, where the mind

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