Six Poems at Underfoot Poetry

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I’m thrilled to have six poems up at Underfoot Poetry. Many thanks to Tim Miller for adding me to his line up. A note on the formatting: your screen may adjust the lines, especially on the first four poems, which consist of a phrase per line. To get the intended effect, you could widen the screen setting. But you might prefer the interesting enjambment offered by your default setting.

44 thoughts on “Six Poems at Underfoot Poetry

  1. Excellent, and congratulations, Bob.

    All of these are masterful and merit further attention, but right away I’ll say that “Bridge,” within “Elegy,” really speaks to me. If a bridge is a connection, is it because something must be fabricated to make that connection. And if so, once it has lost its purpose, what does it become? A useless connection to the past?

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  2. Wow, these six comprise a powerful bundle! It never seems to amaze me how your brand of nihilism manages to be hopeful… As famous I can tell, you inhabit the coveted “Nothing” of the Tibetan Buddhists, much to your devoted readers’ immense fulfillment.

    Congratulations on this fine placement, and kudos to editor Tim Miller for his judicious inclusion of the whole here!

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    • Thank you, ma’am! The first four pieces were written as part of a series (others were published in the Platypus Press mini-digital chapbook, and “Elegy” was begun perhaps in 1999 or 2000, but took a good while to complete – one of those “dozen-year” poems. 😁

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      • I’ve heard it said that fictionists don’t ever stop writing a piece; they just keep writing (and revising) until they abandon it. I wonder if it’s the same for poets … ? I’m glad you have the persistence and fortitude to see your works through to publication, Bob—for purely unselfish reasons of course. 🙂

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          • Interesting. I have these weird feelings for my ‘creations.’ If I’m not mistaken, I read that Steven Spielberg won’t watch any of his movies except E.T., with his grandchildren. In that vein, I don’t go back to my published ones—they’re almost like a fresh wound that I don’t want to pick at or something! Isn’t that odd, that producing something artistic feels so personal and painful? Guess that’s just my personality. (??)

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            • Well, part of it may be that I want to include some of them in books, and a little revision may be needed to make them fit in a manuscript. But I have to admit that I’ve memorized very few of my poems. Once they’re written, I go on to the next few. There’s always something in process, usually several at any one time, and I don’t retain them with any accuracy.

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    • Thanks, Lynne. No, not new – I workshopped a few of the pieces in this series at Truchas, and “Elegy” has been through the wringer over the past decade plus. It’s amazing how some of these things take hold of us!

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  3. Yes, I have a couple of poems that meet your perfect description (“through the wringer”) haha and you’re right, it works us over trying to get them right! Well, obvious success here – they flow so well, who could imagine the backstory?

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  4. Interesting to contemplate the decision of which six; they all seem perfect embodiments of your style (including how you tackle a cento, which one day may inspire me the way your ghazals have). I can’t choose a favorite line or anything here, but here’s one at random: I can’t count the number of mornings I’ve woken up feeling ‘ticketless’.

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    • It was easy in that the first four poems were the only remaining unpublished pieces in the series. “Elegy” fit right in although its original impulse was different, and the last poem was written at roughly the same time as the first four, and seemed to mesh with them. I must admit that “ticketless” seems to describe many of my mornings, too. 🙂

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  5. Bravo! Wonderful combination, stirring up some melancholy on this reader’s part, but a good reflective sort of melancholy. I saved a copy of “Some Answers …” after reading it half a dozen times … will read it a few more … swaying between answers to give, answers to anticipate receiving … perhaps the giving and receiving both within self. Truly snagged by last line – If I knew I’d tell you. Indeed, I consider “I don’t know” the bottom-line truth in all cases (though one often thinks otherwise).

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  6. I have seen your name pop up on my blog a number of times but was not aware that you had your own blog. So glad to have discovered it, and these excellent poems, through Tim Miller’s blog. Hope you don’t mind that I reblogged them (your poems) on Appendix Poetry. Keep up the good work!

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