William Pryor Poems

Ending,
fending the ending,
off
pending, you wait
...

The ladder leans on our wall
we clamber rather than fall
as snakes to the pit
we flit
...

ai leetle peecture
now
on
the
...

why I am not a jazz pianist
inspired by Frank
O'Hara's Why I am not a Painter.
I'm a poet, at least
...

As if circling furious
surrounded sparks
be
holding
...

I sign your thigh
flourish my pot
belly as maybe
a sensual distortion
...

Long burgeons the last cello
swells with cut enthusiasms
where bud the swollen flowers
of being...
...

this -
fresh made
out of words
not found on a sign
...

The day the one-armed bandit
clapped his hand
and saw the face
he had before he was born
...

Eyes asleep in thought
the onetime castle king
ordered milk for seven dry sundays
while his china universes
...