s./j. goldner

Rookie (March 2nd,1984 / USA)

Biography of s./j. goldner

s./j. goldner poet

how you compose what you organize is where the art comes in.


What lasts is the
interpretation of beauty

and not beauty itself

-~-

I am

Unhinged and uncanny
poetic and prolific

blindsighted by inhibition
&
curtailed by ambition.

-~-

Trailing her dissolving glory over each hard-won barricade -
Only to fade anew..

-~-

I never saw a wild thing,
Sorry for itself.
A small bird will dropp dead from a bough,
Without ever having felt sorry for itself.
- D.H. Lawrence


I know something now
About subject, object, verb
And about one word that fails
For lack of substance.
- Fanny Howe


Turn away; check your manicure;
Pull on your gloves. Take time; make sure
The hat brim curves though the hat's straight.
Give her your arm. Let the fools wait;
They act like they've someplace to go.
Take the stairs, now. Self-control. Slow.
A slight limp; just enough to see,
Pass on, and infect history.

The rest is silence. Left like sperm
In a stranger's gut, waiting its term,
Each thought, each step lies; the roots spread.
They'll believe in us when we're dead.
When we took 'Red Berlin' we found
We always worked best underground.
So; the vile body turns to spirit
That speaks soundlessly. They'll hear it.
- Snodgrass


And the dream - and once, I remember,
it seemed I was the dream -
the dream tilts up to pour me out.
- William Matthews


I am impossible, I know it,
a fan with a clattering blade loose,
a car with no second gear.
-Marge Piercy

...

it's not really quantity
or quality;
it's more about versatility

...

Ultimate conundrum 1

Constant fear
of being
recognized -
but
scared of
being alone.


Ultimate conundrum 2

The body
wants to fuck;
the mind doesn't.


Ultimate conundrum 3

I'm exhausted from being
myself -
and fed up
with being someone I'm not.

...


She left a note on the bedroom door.
''If I'm out, bring me to.'' - james d. morrison


There is another world,
but it is in this one. - Paul Eluard


As the knife-grinder pedals and pedals,
You whisper: I know nothing
Of what became of her. - Cyrus Cassells


-~-
What pattern governs this surface, inscrutable as the ocean?

PoemHunter.com Updates

Handprint on a wave

She knew how memory worked.
Last time she had seen him
he had been perfected
Ly etched in her mind;
She didn’t want to replace that
with anything less
Than what she had known.
She knew how memory worked—
How memory faded

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