Fred Wilbur

  • While I waited there
    in the terminal at Newark,
    I spotted something
    out of the corner of my eye.
    It was a bird flying back
    and forth along the ceiling,
    and because I was
    in an airline […]

  • Peace Offering
    I still don’t know what to do
    with the jacket hanging in my
    closet. It’s not that old but like
    a Brautigan novel is out of fashion.
    Maybe it all comes down to math
    and how for the first tim […]

  • —for Nicole Marie

    She asked me to stand by her side,
    But I wanted to see it all
    Because I knew that I’d forget—
    Even as hard as I’d want to remember—
    The brunt and the bitter
    Forcing my son in […]

  • Once the Thunder Stops

    and it’s safe to venture out, we walk
    to the end of the drive, out to the road,
    through the mire & torn branches.
    The smell of our wood fire mingles

    with eucalyptus. We have only t […]

  • Mountain spruce
    on upward slopes:
    their pale under-blue
    unwraps the clouds
    in their slow round
    of visiting.
    We taste tracery
    of strange soaps
    on our skins. You
    turn towards me,
    awake […]

  • Twin sisters Fuchsia & Diamond,
    twins in the sense they matured
    in the same kiln, not expelled
    from one womb, dance to punk
    band A Testament Of Youth,
    Tuesday night, Dugan’s Deli,
    Iowa State U […]

  • Men croon
    playful puns about you.
    Men legislate, fix
    your tan tunic
    and wide bulb
    with geography.
    Men say your sweetness comes
    from the soil,
    comes from a depression-era accident
    from a patch of sandy […]

  • Corsets of snow belly-bust traffic in Chicago,
    mercifully blurring the blocky derangements
    of Mies van der Rohe’s window arrangements.
    You look from Floor 23 down at Michigan Avenue,
    wax maudlin for a p […]

  • For the seventh time I have pierced
    My heart, bleeding and beating
    Autonomous of my rib cage.
    Yet despite the pain,
    My tears are gilded on a face
    Lily white
    And no matter how I am pierced
    I still think the […]

  • Nature itself is meaningless; it is only as we interpret it that it has meaning.
    John Canaday, What is Art?

    In our side yard a walnut grows. Higher than the house, it is 104 inches in circumference at chest […]

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