Poem of the Day
Yellow Striped Pajamas
By Shamsher Bahadur Singh
walking silently on his paws, he emerges from the semidarkness and disappears into it.
walking silently on his paws, he emerges from the semidarkness and disappears into it.
Nothing could be predicted. Behind the closed lid, the outstretched hand, what streamers, shocks, accordions of foam!
There is a chortle which is the chord of three ideas struck at once: a man carrying a hatrack; a wishbone in the center of an enormous plate; an idiot watching a snowfall.
I tried using my high position to make everyone wear little hats.
Fat trains moved for a hundred years, the river’s been
Altered by Republic Steel. Perhaps things only happen
When they stop
A train of little m’s behind the plow. America:
So many centuries thicken its animal sound,
This mammoth that holds us between its knees,
you are white everywhere
on your rubbery boy’s body
baby fat intact.
I want to love a blue-eyed man
and have blue-eyed babies,
sleek and smooth as cats.
I'm not sure what to say when the man comes to my door and says he's my brother. It is true that I do have a brother, but this man does not resemble him. The man is battered, blood not quite dry speckling his face.
Before, it was the wind
and the idea of disorder.
And now it is the sea in the kitchen;