Anthony Uplandpoet Watkins

not a disco, and not the kind of “lounge” that is really a roadside bar, or one filled with ferns from the nineteen eighties, but a real, not-on-the-Vegas-strip where some slightly overweight...

https://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordpress.com/2024/05/02/to-sit-in-a-lounge/

not a libretto, nor an aria every word, every sound, every stage direction first written in simple English then transformed into eighteenth century Italian shapes and sounds with intricate curlic...

https://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordpress.com/2024/05/02/i-am-writing-an-opera/

With my eyes closed through windows that are not there on the low cinderblock building and I think of when my time for leaving comes and wonder about a villa overlooking the Spanish coast, where ...

https://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordpress.com/2024/04/30/i-watch-the-swallows-dive/

Nineteen-thirty-two, nineteen-sixty-eight, two-thousand-twenty-four, there are barricades and big burly policemen all around the encampments full of women and children, full of those who care abo...

https://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordpress.com/2024/04/30/bonus-army-not-about-palestine/

Rides on a stick figure donkey both black against an orange background with Don Quixote stumbling along on brave Rocinante, truly as horse with no name and yet one can imagine Pancho wishing for ...

https://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordpress.com/2024/04/29/stick-like-pancho/

The Shade is a Blessing Especially for an old man  on foot, limping  with a walking stick  where in the clearing  the summer sun beats  down even through  the dirty straw hat. A series of o...

https://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordpress.com/2024/04/27/the-shade-is-a-blessing/

Grace be unto us Those of us who eat dark chocolate and drink black coffee and love the burn of a hot pepper, for we have learned to love our suffering, which comes in so handy as one ages.

https://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordpress.com/2024/04/26/a-blessing/

Inspired by a wonderful discussion of a Louise Glück poem, led by the equally wonderful Mandana Chaffa: The Last Time I Had Cherries This morning, I broke the sealon the plastic bowl the cantalo...

https://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordpress.com/2024/04/24/the-last-time-i-had-cherries/

in the quiet of my Tallahassee living room. for as I like to say: I like the ocean except for the sun, sand, and salt water. In my old age, I love a spring, or even a city pool, filled with … ...

https://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordpress.com/2024/04/18/i-smell-the-ocean/

waking up hit hard like a Christian getting old-timey religion like Sister Jackson. All four foot eight of her running flat out, blue and white hanky waving in the air, eyes closed, with that hig...

https://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordpress.com/2024/04/11/thursday-afternoon-nap/