Lit
Cut Flowers
I don't remember the impetus or reason for this poem. If I can remember why, I will share it here.
Duvet
A love poem.
Easter
A love poem for Michelle
Fallation Brass Axe
In 1997, I was apparently a surrealist poet.
Farewell Sonnet
Not by me but by Kathryn Medland, Mike Crow, and Mark Harrison back in 1996
Je suis fatigue
The ennui of 26 years and a little bit of voyeurism? Maybe of longing?
Fat Lady
I guess I was a surrealist poet
Ford Pickup
Love it. I don't remember if I lived it.
Freeze
I need to remember this one better.
Gentle Boy
Wow, heavy
Memory of the Tousled-Haired Girl
In March only the smokers stood outside on the street where the party was allowed to spill.
fall rant
The first rain brought all the leaves to the slick city streets.
My Smokey Poet
I guess I used to romanticize smoking French cigarettes.
Washingtonian: Spontaneous Hypernarrative
A collaborative spontaneous hypernarrative I catalyzed back in 1997.
Reading to Myron Stout
I feel like this was a writing project I did in class at GWU
Metro One
I see that I wrote a lot of love poems when I was in my 20s
New Lovers
The sky took the morning. Birds tore small holes in the quiet.
Kailua Beach Park
Love poetry from my 20s
k.
I wrote a lot of love poetry in 1994, all my love poetry was written in my 20s.
Sweatshirt
Love poem written for and about my English Rose.
When You Sit Quietly Next to Me
Literary love poem.
Aerogramme
I was one romantic bastard in my 20s.
Algeria
I think I must have been obsessed with Camus at the time of this poem.
The Blight of the City at Night
I wrote this when I was sitting on a bench outside my Sophomore dorm.
Memories are Blue-green
Maybe the most accurate description of how my brain works?
Brittle
Poem about visiting a volcanic eruption (grew up in Hawaii).
dry elbows
Love poem written for Michelle in Hawaii from DC.
brazen body
Probably a love poem about Michelle.
Dig Me with Kat
Poem published Dec 29, 2002 - 09:26 PM
On a Jetty
©1990 chris abraham
A Poem for S.
©14 February 1995 Chris Abraham
An Ode to S. on Valentine's Day
©1995 Chris Abraham
Too High To Make Connections
©25.1.1993 Chris Abraham
Bleached Slave (revision 1)
I think I wrote this for a college class, well before this sort of thing might not have been done. Carole Maso's class, 3 February 1993.
No Decompression Limit
©1999 Chris Abraham
Flesh
©1993 Chris Abraham
Cunnilingus
©1993 Chris Abraham
A Native Dance For Royalty
©1989 Chris Abraham
CONDOM
©1992 Chris Abraham
Cold Countertops
©1993 Chris Abraham
Bicycle Ride
©1995 Chris Abraham
Burial
©1994 Chris Abraham
Color Fields
©1993 Chris Abraham
Commencement
©1993 Chris Abraham
Hyde Park
©1994 Chris Abraham
Eruption at Kilauea Caldera
©1993 Chris Abraham
When You Sit Quietly Next to Me
©1994 Chris Abraham
Barefoot all Day
This was inspired by Anne Sexton "I Remember"
Giant Wildflowers (four haikus)
©1996 Kathryn Medland
Gardening
©1994 Chris Abraham
Exploding Boy by Velton Ross
©1995 Velton Ross
Ode to Fashion
I feel like this is my favorite poem and the only one that my buddy Mark Harrison knows almost by heart. ©1995 Chris Abraham
Two Of
©1996 Ariane Conrad
BuzzWords
©1995 Chris Abraham
Cambridge Motorways, 1992
I love poem I wrote to a girl I dated named Liz Humphries. Where is she now? I really don't know.
Triangle Park
When I was in love in the early 90s, I wrote many poems about a girl named Elizabeth. I flew her out from Kent, UK, and to Honolulu. I wrote a poem about one moment, in Triangle Park in Waikiki. It moved me.
Innuendo
I don't even know where this poem came from. It really must have been possession, because this isn't very much me. Or is it? Well, its certainly innuendo.
Discman
It's funny to find odd little treasures like this poem. I mean, what was it about the discman that made me feel like writing a poem?
summertime duvet (cheese cloth melody)
In 1996, Anne Brossard and I traveled around the globe. Anne was in the last stage of freedom before attending graduate school at Columbia, and I a photographer. And I wrote this poem about the oppressive heat of Singapore, which is nothing compared to DC funk.
You Sit to Write
This is my favorite ode to Kathryn Medland. She is an inspired poet and I want to make that clear. And so, in admiration of her art, I wrote about her. There might have been a crush involved.
The Red-Hooded Sweatshirt
I fell in love with an English Rose named Liz Humphries while studying in England at UEA. When I met her, we were at the Norwich boat house for UEA. She wore a big unflattering sweatshirt, red as a Cardinal. I imprinted on it.
Metro Three
This poem is the end of a series of 1997-era poetry about seeing my friend Kathryn Medland after a few years. She was an amazing friend who I always adored for her love and lust for life. She honored me by featuring the work as part of her wedding reception's party favor and printed my words along with her other faves (e.e. cumming, etc.) and offering them to her wedding guests. It was high honor to me.
Metro Two
This is another of the poems that Kathryn Medland printed out to share with her wedding party. It was my biggest artistic honor to be there, like placemats, sitting at random table-settings. To be commingled and cojoined with the work of e.e. cummings.
Tsan-Boo
Tsan-Boo was my Sherpa when Mark Harrison and I trekked in Nepal
Blue Kayaks
Mark and I keep Kayaks at Jack's Boats and since I was writing too much about girls and about psychobabble, I thought it prudent to allow my inner naturalist to surface.
Houston
I usually don't write too much about places, especially in the US. Although I found this one, which is about Texas.
Rothko Chapel
I visited Houston for a while in 1996. The Rothko Chapel is worth visiting Houston to see. It really can convince even the most resolute naysayer that there is something greater than ourself.
Body Odor
Poem written in 1993
Chasing Nicole
I have been going to the gym like a maniac over the last few months. I can see my scores on the Erg improve and I can see a lot more musculature. I felt pretty good about my progress until I accepted an invitation to go on a walk with Nicole Wilson.
63
I was a bike courier for WEx, Washington Express, in my 20s.
Oatmeal by Galway Kinnell
I believe that Oatmeal is my first poem by Galway Kinnell and I think of it and him every time I cook up my Bob's Red Mill stone ground oats with milk and maple syrup.
Topography by Sharon Olds
I've had a couple amazing long distance relationships in my life and they were always so passionate. Sharon Olds is the best when it comes to passionate. She gets me.
The Unborn by Sharon Olds
I don't know if I will ever have children. If I will ever be a parent. Sometimes a feel a longing. Sometimes I feel a lack. I probab;ly won't. It's not looking good.
Sex Without Love by Sharon Olds
Maybe I have been hobbled by growing up Catholic or putting women on pedestals because of all-boys school. But I have never swiped left or right on Tinder. I am no choir boy. I have had more than my fair share. But going through lovers has never been the way I have ever passed my time. It's neither sport nor a source of story or content. I feel like Sharon Olds gets my feelings perfectly right.
Primitive by Sharon Olds
The only thing that separates us Americans in 2019 from men 50,000 years ago is the hubris of modernity. We are all primitive and Sharon Old gets it. And it's beautiful and meaningful, both.
Satan Says by Sharon Olds
Being exposed to the profane done artfully and in a way that shows the humanness innate in blasphemy and heresy. This poem, by poet Sharon Olds, from her book Satan Says, was one of those experiences. That and The Pope's Penis, another of her poems.
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d by Walt Whitman
My top-4 poets are Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, Galway Kinnell, and Sharon Olds; now, we're celebrating Walt Whitman's 200th anniversary as America's poet. This is really one of Whitman's most Washington, DC, pome.
I Sing the Body Electric by Walt Whitman
On the celebration of the 200th anniversary of America's bard, here's to Walt Whitman, America's poet.
Song of Myself by Walt Whitman
To me, this is the most important poem ever written and shared with the world, more important to what it is to be an American than the Constitution, Bill of Rights, The Gettysburg Address, or even the Declaration of Independence. The I Have a Dream speech is this poem's brother.
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