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Huan Yi
Member Ascendant
since 2004-10-12
Posts 6688
Waukegan

0 posted 2007-06-01 07:23 PM


.

http://www.writing.upenn.edu/~afilreis/88/stevens-13ways.html

Write other ways
I’ll kick it off

/pip/Forum103/HTML/003154.html

John

.

© Copyright 2007 John Pawlik - All Rights Reserved
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354
Listening to every heart
1 posted 2007-06-14 06:26 PM


/pip/Forum103/HTML/003405.html

well, they're black.


oceanvu2
Senior Member
since 2007-02-24
Posts 1066
Santa Monica, California, USA
2 posted 2007-06-24 07:28 PM


Thirteen Ways of Cooking up Blackbirds


(or,   One can never get even
         With Wallace Stevens.)


I
Between their crusts of lard and flour,
Four and twenty, so still,
The blackbirds lie.

II
Blackbirds in a pot-au-feu
Lack fat to skim,
Requiring but a stir.

III
Blackbirds, drawn and hung ‘til high,
Served as savories, not for nose or eye.

IV
Pate de blackbirds and a man
Are one.
Pate de blackbirds and a woman
Are too much.

V
When confronted with a choice
Between blackbirds en croute
Or blackbird skewers with pepper crust
I ask the chef,
Not trusting green opinion.

VI
A saucier clips twenty
Beaks and forty feet for stock.
Reduced, a one ounce coat of
Blackbird essence for two blackbird breasts,
As lobster shells are rent
For oil in Dali’s joint across the street.

VII
Oh portly men of Gotham,
Why do you dream of Porterhouse?
Can you not see how toast-point blackbirds
Grace the Spode
Of your companions?

VIII
I know the noble notes of spice
In nuanced combinations;
But I know, too,
That salt and pepper plain
Do blackbirds justice.

IX
Disparaged by the many fiends for barbecue,
Blackbirds only sate the fringes
Of my of my family circle.

X
Blackbirds set in contrast on
A pureed mire-poix,
Even the fans of  hamburg
Cry my goodness!

XI
They drove up to Connecticut
In rented van, and, taken by
The green-glow sign before
A rustic Stamford inn
Seduced themselves with
Thoughts of blackbirds Provencal.

XII
Blackbirds in flight escape
The poacher’s net and simmering intentions.

XIII
Forgotten through the afternoon,
They were baking
And they over-baked, turned dry.
Reluctantly, they bid
These blackened birds, Bye, Bye.


I find it hard to "play" with Wallace Stevens, because he is inimitable.  I gave it a shot, though, because I love him.  No one has come close to strumming his Blue Guitar.

Best, Jim

oceanvu2
Senior Member
since 2007-02-24
Posts 1066
Santa Monica, California, USA
3 posted 2007-07-08 07:15 PM


What, was it my breath?

Jim

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