SEL MAJ AM WRITERS I, WITH RICHARD COOK

0 Minutes

I left Walden in Columbia—
I have not read the course work,
and therefore,
cannot answer your questions,
Professor.

10 Minutes

Door,
Why must you mock
my restraint?
I sit in this child’s desk,
back aching, hunching
as the willow weeps;
and there you are, ajar:

27 Minutes

“The attention
to
the flower,
to
the pine cone…

He was the pond
and there is no word to describe this

other than love.”

32 Minutes

There is always
a new book
to be written,

A new walk
to take…

36 Minutes

A man
with the appearance of a boy

(fair skin;
rounded crown of rust;
eyes like my watch face:
darting,
quiet,
smooth;
less)

curves that whip of bones,
sips with pursed lips
—memories of his childhood’s kiss—
and his thirst is quenched,

just beyond that mocking door.

45 Minutes

One
forty-
eighth
of our day
is all
which separates you
and I, Play.

51 Minutes

Easily,
the pleasantries
of this place,—
the University of Missouri-
Saint Louis—
my greatest scholarly joys,
are heard by each of these 42 ears,
and seen just by my two eyes,
and are bursting,
the ball and its cannon,
through cumulus beasts.

59 Minutes

“Life
itself
is not to be contained.”

65 Minutes

Last I sat here,
I painted
my limbs
with panther’s blood. What
of panther’s ink?

67 Minutes

Heavenly beasts
still roaring;
Iron, wingéd
cannonballs
never stood a chance.

75 Minutes

I walk through the open door:

Goodbye, Mockery!

Goodbye.

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