Tag Archives: Ben Nardolilli

Rimbaud, come back to me, we’re doing poetry like it’s 1870 all over again, resetting the clock and pretending the 20th century was a dream we can wake up from maybe we’ll go through it all again, for now, it’s … Continue reading →

In this memory, now a dream, I walk Closer, breaking the boards of the porch With my own nervousness approaching A head, mostly white, with a few desperate Strands of red clinging on the base, My hair is now like … Continue reading →

His secret was to find yesterday Reborn into the present one, For today to contain the seed Of tomorrow’s twenty-four hours Bearing the fruits of labors Mirrored again for another day, No feature sharpened or sweetened With spurs or bumps … Continue reading →

We both stared when the buck fell on its face, You told me that you were hungry, That was all you felt it was safe to feel, So we left the body before it could become A corpse and a … Continue reading →

I can feel the salt Swirling and circling To burrow out my nose, I know what divides us. It is so broad and flat, And yet filled With so many peaks, You are right to fear drowning. There is solid … Continue reading →

Is to do something You’ve never seen anyone else do, Carry a handkerchief Through the breeze of the world And never let anyone dirty it, To keep it white as the moon When the sun has fallen. Keep it away … Continue reading →

There is much to admire of these constructions, How lifelike the statues of the dead are, The grace of columns and the stone’s color, How the shade highlights those mourning, And the bright blooms of flowers in wreaths. Here there … Continue reading →