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Poems 2003

Poetry Index

Out of My Skin
Monarch
A Matter of Scale

Heat Wave
Poet and Pet
Awakening
Rebirth

A Reasonable Life

Snapshots 2006
Haikus
Hush and Listen
Faces
Lizard Thoughts
Thunder
White Rose
Mother of the World
Finally

Poems 2005 —
Passion & Discontent
Absence
Blind
Dance
Dry
The Wake of Disaster

Evening
Mama's Tears
Nude
Old Furniture
Pertoglyphs

Rest
Saved
Sounds of an Empty Promise
Entertainment
Sycamores
Three Quarters
Vientos del Mediterráneo
Weavings

Battle
Giving In

Poems 2004
The Dissappearance of Lao Tsu
Nameless Beauty
Commuting
Memory Game
Every Little Thing Counts
Landscapes of Yo Yo Ma's Brazil
Miles (to Miles Davis)
The Colors of Piazzolla's Tango

War and Peace
Making Friends
Old Glory
Kabul Update
Take Heart
March Madness

Poems 2003
Johnny Cash
Between Heartbeats
"Naked Poetry"
Sunflower Sonnet No. 1.5

New York City
My NYC is not your NYC
SanitationWorker, NYC
Gentrification
Passing By
Belly-button Renaissance
West Chelsea

Poems 2002
Crisis
Finding Each Other
Kindred Spirits
Meteor
To Our Youth
At Sunset
Questions
Hollyhock
Holland in Winter

On Society
Mirrors
McKinney X-Tex
Lady Liberty
Making Friends
Old Glory
Walking

Life's Lessons
Child's Life
Crashing Surf
In Search of the Unknown
Love at First Sight
Holding Hands
Grandpa's Tools

Musings
First Snow
Impressionism
Anonymous
Downcast Eyes
Sagrada Familia

In France
French Gardens
Air Show
Cell Phones 01-04

Churches
Lovers in the Castle


 

Response to Peter Cooley's "Naked Poetry"

Dear Henry,

Sex, sex, sex,
sex, sex,
is not the poetry
I would have you write.

Sex was
just the pretext
to set you free
so you'd get it right

and be able to express
in any context
a bit of originality.
Can't you see the light?

Are you perplexed?
What is next
in the self-made fantasy
that you dream day and night?

From the text
of your "epistle about sex,"
I see you're beginning to see
that my leaving was not a slight,

but a test
in order to impress
you that your stupid movie
life is just an imaginary flight.

So don't mess
with the excesses
of imagination and self-pity
which make your life a miserable plight,

and mix
up art and sex.
Get back to reality! You don't need me
even if our sex was "all right."

All the best,
Alexis
(I changed my name, you see,
when I left you that night.)


© 2003 Richard Sidy

 

© 2004 SNS Press
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