Author Archives: William Stubblefield
A Dream is a Physical Thing
Dreams fly free, Embracing phantom lovers, Absent friends, inhabiting Imagined worlds, lost In a rubble of memory. A body forms from thought: Choirs of humming synapses Enfleshed and wandering. A dream is a physical thing. I dreamed I was on … Continue reading
Renaissance – A Sonnet
Fragments of the past littered my mind, Adolescent complaints from long ago. Although those petty flames no longer shine, Their shadows linger in time’s icy glow: Useless fictions, dreams, desires, lies, The masks I wore for work, success, protection, Love’s … Continue reading
Contraction
James Cobb, the drummer onKind of Blue with the Miles Davis SextetDied last year. I bought the albumWhen I was twelve years old,Browsing in a record store, new to jazz,Intimidated by the endless rows of recordsUntil an older stranger (he … Continue reading
Elegy: For Isis
I wrote this poem some time ago, when I was first married and working to complete my doctoral dissertation. Isis was a lovely cat who, along with my wife, endured the throes of my dissertation. I wrote this elegy on … Continue reading
A Political Poem
The day Donald Trump began his campaignFor the presidency, a few in congress(Mainly presidential candidates),Called out his cruelty, corruption,Incompetence, racism, and lies. But afterHe won a freak victory, they cowed and quicklyJoined the other cowards in the party, andRepublicans in … Continue reading