Over the last few days I have had cut-up poems posted at Stride ~ thank you Rupert

Here

Here

And the
chipped rim
of the
deskwood
is alive in
the writing

and light,
tone of the grain
seen and heard
and a
tenor of things
written.

Words dense
in found
measurement
are content
in the voice
you and I
hear,

an agreement of
binding touch
in this
reconciliation.

I have chipped
at the meanings
random and raw and extending,
a treaty of touch
on others’
words.

It is the tone
of the tissued grain
from the
simplest surface
as you see
a wick of light
reflected,

as you
imagine the word
on the voice.

(cut-up: Underworld – Don DeLillo)

And yes there is an alternative word that rhymes with ‘Vie’…

The wrong
that is living

is living
wrong,
alive:

sans
right and
sans
the right toes and
sans
along for the right ride and
sans
dazzling in the right illusion and

then
we’re wrong,
alive.

The wrong
that is living

is this –
is it
wrong?

(cut-up: American Pastoral – Philip Roth)

~

~

My poems still available to read here.

Doing a quick bit of research online about Reinhard Döhl’s Aphel concrete poem, I was surprised but pleased to see this site has had enough hits to be a search engine player.

My prose poem here today at International Times, with thanks to them and Rupert. Special thanks for the superb image.