Can you help?

Read the following poem please:

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
— Wallace Stevens, 1923

Among twenty snowy mountains
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird

I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.

The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.

A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.

I do not know which to prefer
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes.
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.

O thin men of Haddam,
Why to do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
of the women about you?

I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.

When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.

At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.

He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.

The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.

It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.

Perhaps you’ve read it before. Those below are inspired by it

Variations on a Theme
— William Carlos Williams
I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next summer.
I am sorry, but it was morning, and I had nothing to do and its wooden
beams were so inviting.

We laughed at the hollyhocks together
and then I sprayed them with lye.
Forgive me. I simply do not know what I am doing.

I gave away the money that you had been saving to live on for the next ten years.
The man who asked for it was shabby
and the firm March wind on the porch was so juicy and cold.

Last evening we went dancing and I broke your leg.
Forgive me. I was clumsy, and
I wanted you here in the wards, where I am the doctor.

Ten Ways to Avoid Lending Your Wheelbarrow to Anybody
— Adrian Mitchell

May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
I didn’t lay down my life in World War II
so that you could borrow my wheelbarrow.

May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
Unfortunately Lord Goodman is using it.

May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
It is too mighty a conveyance to be wielded
by any mortal save myself.

May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
My wheelbarrow is reserved for religious ceremonies.

May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
I would sooner be broken on its wheel
and buried in its barrow.

May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
I am dying of schizophrenia
and all you can talk about is wheelbarrows.

May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
Do you think I’m made of wheelbarrows?

May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
It is full of blood.

May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
Only if I can fuck your wife in it.

May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
What is a wheelbarrow?


Now I have been working on this for a while and am stuck. Can you help?

Thirteen different ways of looking at a black dog
by an Educated Tatya

Death looms over destiny
like a black dog over his ball

Who knows what wags
the strong tail of the black dog

Fate is a stealthy cat
Who is hunting the black dog

Rain pours like god’s mercy
The black dog rides it like a mean wave

The temple overflows with pleas for life
The black dog asks only for the peel of your banana

The black buddha waits
the eternity it takes
For you to lace your shoes
and throw the ball

The black dog knows not
For whom the bell tolls
He assumes it is for him


5 thoughts on “Can you help?

  1. Why the women
    With too much estrogen
    Love their black dogs so
    I will never know

    Fresh glistening snow
    Jumping black dog
    The sound of icicles melting
    And the gloves you gave me the day before you walked away
    Was throw-and-fetch always so contemptuous?

    She wears a pretty dress
    With sequins and stilettos
    But I keep staring at the other end of the strap around her palm.
    Black dog envy.


  2. The black dog peers
    into the inky night
    Straining, as he listens
    for the sound of your
    footsteps, with all his might

    The scratch of his nails on
    the polished floor
    The black dog slips n slides
    as he rushes to the door

    Scoffing at the steak,
    as if unholy
    The black dog gazes at
    the fruit with melon-choly

    The rain, the rain
    it won’t come again
    The black dog’s eyes beg
    you to join him… in vain

    Mommy’s stomach is
    perfect for his nose-y
    The black dog wriggles and
    gets all warm and cosey

    What’s life without a
    little head-butt
    The black dog doesn’t
    know his head is
    as hard as a nut!

  3. I know this isn’t what you are looking for, but hey!


    The black dog —
    Wags its tail,
    Chews on your heart
    (wag wag wag wag)


    First there was a red ball,
    Then there was none


    And how many times
    Must a dog wag its tail,
    Before you throw the ball?
    (the red one)
    The answer my friend,
    Is blowing in the wind,
    The answer is blowing in the wind
    (Or is it racing towards you, tail wagging?)


    I see a red ball and I want it painted black
    No colors anymore, I want them to turn black
    I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
    I have to wag my tail until the bitches throw

    I see a line of cars and they’re all painted black
    With flowers and my ball, both never to come back
    I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
    Like a new born puppy it just happens every day

    I look inside myself and see my heart is black
    I see my red ball and it has been painted black.
    Maybe I’ll race away and not have to face the facts
    It’s not easy chasing balls when your whole world is black

    No more will banana peels turn a deeper blue,
    I could not foresee this thing happening to you.
    If I look hard enough into the settin sun,
    My love will throw the ball before the morning comes…

    /with aplogies to rolling stones and dylan

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