Frank Stanford Poems
|1.||Circle Of Lorca||9/4/2014|
|2.||Everybody Who Is Dead||9/4/2014|
|4.||The Forgotten Madmen of Ménilmontant||6/25/2015|
|5.||Planning The Disappearance Of Those Who Have Gone||9/4/2014|
|6.||Play In Which Darkness Falls||9/4/2014|
|7.||Friend Of The Enemy||9/4/2014|
|9.||In Another Room I Am Drinking Eggs From A Boot||9/4/2014|
|10.||Faith, Dogma, And Heresy||9/4/2014|
|12.||The Arkansas Prison System||9/4/2014|
|17.||Freedom, Revolt, And Love||1/20/2003|
Comments about Frank Stanford
Freedom, Revolt, And Love
They caught them.
They were sitting at a table in the kitchen.
It was early.
They had on bathrobes.
They were drinking coffee and smiling.
She had one of his cigarillos in her fingers.
She had her legs tucked up under her in the chair.
They saw them through the window.
She thought of them stepping out of a bath
And him wrapping cloth around her.
He thought of her walking up in a small white building,
He thought of stones settling into the ground.
Then they were gone.
Then they came in through the back.
Her cat ran out.
The house was near the ...
I Or Your Woman
The night was a bad one.
I only saw one other person out:
A big black man on muleback
Riding along the levee, marking the water.
There was a lantern in his hand
And what you could call a grim smile on the lips.
I shifted down gears,