Objectivist Poems

These are two poems I did in the style of great objectivists like Ezra Pound or William Carlos Williams.

Window

Breath marches

misty wet whilst

fingers whistle

print to those who

stare.

 

Willow wind

flow, we’ll go

south and

starve out

                 Summer.

 

Frames collide

blind twice but you might

win though. Pane is

muttered muddily

most nights.

 

 

 

Smoothie

Sat atop a desk it's

falling motionless through

space as we do.

 

Up and down are clowns and

jesters of direction.

 

Left.

Right.

Lies.

 

We only move through endless

raw, friendless

war, forward.

 

 

 

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed