wjsullivan.net
Overloading the Machine
Another Take
- A Ticket to Scrawl
- A Trip Out at Night
- An Example
- Breathing Down Our Door
- Cu-bi-cle
- Encounter
- Epilogue
- Music, for an Exit Poem
- Fever
- Flight Paths Over Laos
- Fortune
- He & I See the Iris a Little Differently
- Here, the Sky
- Hotel Weather Report
- How Solemn!
- Last Night in Lansing
- Last Thursday
- Lottery000001
- Lottery000002
- Not Clouds
- Omelet
- Postcard (Boulder to Boston)
- Practice, in Ink
- Saturday Indoors
- Save Changes
- Sestina, for Foucault
- Sham
- So Many Had Carved Stone, So Many Had Carved Wood
- Some Come Home
- Taking a Walk
- The Bells Are Upon Us
- The Racket
- The Theory of the Phone
- The New Economy
- I
- A Filthy Impression, and Nothing Else
- Under My Rug
- Top of the Hour, Tip of the Hat
For years a secret shame destroyed my peace--
I'd not read Eliot, Auden or MacNiece.
But now I think a thought that brings me hope:
Neither had Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Pope.
-- Justin Richardson.
This page was last modified on 2011 December 20.