Author Archives: anthonyuplandpoetwatkins

About anthonyuplandpoetwatkins

https://www.goodreads.com/AnthonyUplandpoetWatkins born in Jackson, The United States August 04, 1959 gender male website http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?contributorI... genre Poetry, Historical Fiction influences James M. Lancaster, Brenda Black White, Gertrude Stein, William Carlos Williams, and Al Filreis member since March 2011 About this author edit data As one of the most public lives ever lived by a private citizen, there is little about me that isn't already available at Facebook or Shelfari and countless other places. Poet, writer, construction worker, salesman, truck driver, climber into the attics of total strangers, father and husband, and all around one of the luckiest men on the planet. My luck continued with a win in the June Goodreads Newsletter Contest! What an honor! http://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordp... Additional Influences: Bob Dylan, William Faulkner, Barbara Kingsolver, Gloria Naylor, Eudora Welty

Layers

Four rednecks wash a 4×4 at 9 pm, 1 block over a short Guatemalan flies north on his bike.   A homeless couple share love in the liquor store parking lot, her street walker skirt pulls high as she stretches … Continue reading

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This is Manchester

the arena Damascus street Cypriot shore flags gored the living and dead “Wait a minute tell you (ah) Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang”   forever ash in mouth, your baby dead, another barrel bombed in Syria, pointless political … Continue reading

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The Count

As a boy I counted years And soon Dreamed of How many novels I would write   I remember the braided rug reading comics grandma read obits I wondered why   Then truck driver father counts dollars kids grow up, … Continue reading

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What We Were Before

stand now listen pain ignorance stupidity poets, priests and punks spray array   oncoming high beam verses, rhymes, not, especially not I am, was nothing if not not   decades careful word order splash throw out like fish water like … Continue reading

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They Don’t Howl No More

I saw the greatest words of my generation wasted, strunked and white wrung out with punctuation dying a slow txtng death   Used in minor+myopic+ progressive+political+positions, smoking unfiltered vowels and whoring themselves out to uniformly avante garde literary publishers.   … Continue reading

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Dear Morning Bring Me an Ironing Board

No need for an iron to press my shirt Only tea, with milk I do not drink small room six people dress eat pop tarts and tie shoes   America is always late hurry, don’t forget your books I’ll have … Continue reading

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From Some Tree this Hidden Calf (trying to escape Poe’s Raven)

  Waits and bleats and shadows brown dappled in darkness I hear it call   a cry, but a cry without hope in the tradition of a beast, whose ancestors know only slaughter.   There is surely a rope or … Continue reading

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