Friday, August 21, 2020

Five Poems, by Gregory Betts




After Basho


from frog pond song
reflections
on a still black log
moon singing





m ( ) ( ) n



(
f r ( ) m      ( ) ( ) o m
f r ( ) g      ( ) ( ) o ( )
p ( ) n d      ( ) o n ( )
s ( ) n g      ( ) o n ( )
)






fromfr fromfrogpondsong food gnosdnopgorfmorf rfmorf
ogpond romfrogpondsongf rnms fgnosdnopgorfmor dnopgo
songfr omfrogpondsongfr odfo rfgnosdnopgorfmo rfgnos
omfrog mfrogpondsongfro msrn orfgnosdnopgorfm grofmo
pondso frogpondsongfrom foog morfgnosdnopgorm osdnop
ngfrom rogpondsongfromf rngf fmorfgnosdnopgor morfgn
frogpo ogpondsongfromfr ogpr rfmorfgnosdnodgo opgorf
ndsong gpondsongfromfro gfoo orfmorfgnosdnopg gnosdn
fromfr pondsongfromfrog prnm gorfmorfgnosfnop rfmorf
fromfr pondsongfromfrog prnm gorfmorfgnosfnop rfmorf
ndsong gpondsongfromfro gfoo orfmorfgnosdnopg gnosdn
frogpo ogpondsongfromfr ogpr rfmorfgnosdnodgo opgorf
ngfrom rogpondsongfromf rngf fmorfgnosdnopgor morfgn
pondso frogpondsongfrom foog morfgnosdnopgorm osdnop
omfrog mfrogpondsongfro msrn orfgnosdnopgorfm grofmo
songfr omfrogpondsongfr odfo rfgnosdnopgorfmo rfgnos
ogpond romfrogpondsongf rnms fgnosdnopgorfmor dnopgo
fromfr fromfrogpondsong food gnosdnopgorfmorf rfmorf



Sadness is the Blood

sadness pours
across discontented space
clouds in sighs to sighs

in sudden throat clots
in random deaths unmourned
you’ve been suddenly assigned

breathe in each cloud of sadness
until lungs back into life die




A Pond Reflection



m ( ) n
( ) n
( ) h ( )
m ( ) ( ) n







Gregory Betts is the author of seven books of poetry, including most recently Sweet Forme: Shake-Speare’s Perfect Sonnets (Apothecary Archive, Australia), a data visualization response to the sound of the internal rhymes in Shakespeare’s sonnets. His work has been published and taught across North America and Europe. He is the curator of the bpNichol.ca Digital Archive and a professor of Canadian and avant-garde literature at Brock University.


No comments:

Post a Comment

Handed, by Monty Reid

  1 What holds the narrative in its cold fingers   as one might hold a hot cup   and drop it       My right arm failed, and I ...