Quotations From BJ WARD


» More about BJ Ward on Poemhunter

 

  • “A man awakes every morning
    and instead of reading the newspaper
    reads Act V of Othello.
    He sips his coffee and is content
    that this is the news he needs
    as his wife looks on helplessly.”
    Jackleg Opera: Collected Poems, 1990 to 2013
  • “I am thinking of poets who havent written well in years
    but who rubbed against the sun twenty years ago--

    Arent they in their own kinds of prisons too?”
    Jackleg Opera: Collected Poems, 1990 to 2013
  • “From ragbag, stumblebum, peripatetic lout
    To bonfire of catnip that burns itself out--

    Bristled sack of hiss & claws
    Cinched at the maw--”
    Jackleg Opera: Collected Poems, 1990 to 2013
  • “In that house I built
    a bonfire that illuminated
    the fecund earth around it.
    And in that split-level
    my friend Tommy, only eight
    teeth left in his whole head,
    dug a huge illegal grave
    to bury his fathers packhorse.
    He marched that sumpter
    into the dark study
    and shot its head on the left
    so it would fall right.
    That night, as if to argue
    with the day,
    Karen and I made love
    on the front lawn of the mansion
    one cul-de-sac down,
    four feet away
    from what would be
    a window cracked
    open to allow the outside
    in.”
    Jackleg Opera: Collected Poems, 1990 to 2013
  • “leads to Bear Down--
    Bear Down
    gives way to little crown--
    Crown concedes the Head--
    then Head produces All--
    Snip the fruity cord--
    little King begins to bawl
    then grows bored--
    So begins his fall--”
    Jackleg Opera: Collected Poems, 1990 to 2013
  • “The words I speak to these chairs
    must be silencing.
    It has stunned them
    into a profound emptiness.
    No creaking from the gallery--
    no James Joyce here, nor Malory--

    An unknown author
    in a very large chain--

    cant you hear me rattling?”
    Jackleg Opera: Collected Poems, 1990 to 2013
  • “Out in this profane city,
    sometimes sidewalks
    seem the only cement that connects us,
    pressed by the sacred strangers
    we will never touch.”
    Jackleg Opera: Collected Poems, 1990 to 2013
  • “I have nothing but duct-taped syntax to offer them--
    noise of jury-rigged verse, of entire days burned
    by the focus of a foremans glare, the labored breath
    of an exhausted ride home
    while she sings in a tiara and cape
    to tuxedoed men and bespangled women.
    Yet the world sounds most honest to me
    when its timing chain is slightly off.
    How it revs, how it almost sputters out
    on any given evening after a long day of work.”
    Jackleg Opera: Collected Poems, 1990 to 2013
  • “Little bucktoothed alligator
    ready to taste my bills.

    Make something suffer.
    Make something stick.”
    Jackleg Opera: Collected Poems, 1990 to 2013
  • “A poem is a windy city, has broad shoulders
    and insistent industry,
    barrels into your brain, sticking
    its steam-filled, swarmy head
    into the delicate, empty bird cages
    propped in the rooms of your imagination.

    A poem can be rude, downright ignorant
    of what you had been thinking about
    and holding onto for too much of the day.
    More than a city, a poem pushes its hemispheres
    against your thoughts, knocking them out
    of the windows of your ears.
    Every good poem screams, Read me
    because youre going to die someday!”
    Jackleg Opera: Collected Poems, 1990 to 2013
[Report Error]