*antonfrost

trust in randomness

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About Me Premium Member General Poet anton frost23/Male/United States

Recent Activity Deviant for 9 Months
5 Month Premium Membership

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alluvium haiku

cross-hatch, catching light— tiny streams, city gutters

watching dali's window

paradox

i am young and old,
unable to love, waiting for it.
my birth is paradoxical,
my death is the strange reverse of words—
meanwhile my life is unbelievable,
mythical—
maze upon maze.

deja vu

there is a place that sways along the evasive lines of smoke;
it appears suddenly, in a cerebral
flash,
and dreams from the deep past are recalled--
the kick
at the chain link fence sending rough ripples along the right angle,
the mystified face of love, cartwheeling
behind trees;
the invisible
sun with its strange
universal light.
there is a place beyond all control, built
and dismantled in the strobe of lightning,
s

there is much to see

up here
there is much to see, and there is a wide belt of time.
from the hill, the tiny sharpness of corners and windows
shrink—
the anonymous eyes on shore,
in town— across the river— remain anonymous.
the wind rushes

along the wide emergency of the sky—
the clouds come in, make a low rolling ceiling
that terrify, and excite.
the cool flavor of change,
of the palm
flipping
on th

in the end

in the end, what can we say?
the raveling
of our lives is cancelled, undone—
every action couples with reaction, spurns its ascent—
we exist, and the comeuppance of death is the balance, the bringing back to zero—
this is the human mathematics.
smiles
get mixed up
in the release of grief;
life could be said to be the halfway point
between never
and always.
a window has two sides, the long rifle of our gaze pivots in the sheen of glass; &nb

Newest

i am slowly insanei am slowly insane and unwilling to deny it.
the world began, in a sense, my own, with my beginning.

in it there are new things, because i am new.
there is so much we never
know,
because it hasn't been
discovered yet.
so many died
with hitler ruling the world.
but too much evil, like the good, never lasts.
they understood, okay. even if they didn't know it.
the world had always been there, but i didn't believe it
until i arrived.
now the world is i am slowly insane
by *antonfrost

lake and shore a love poemi am on the lake, approaching the shore, far off;
i am on several lakes at once, with the similar confusing shores.
someone waves; is waving-
many people in all those places, the lakes i'm on, been in.
someone is waving, wanting me to come in,
wanting the understanding of sight,
a closeness
that overcomes communication.
wanting me closer, having been waiting, having things for me, and words,
and i approach as the confusion burns up with the mist lake and shore a love poem
by *antonfrost

at one timeat one time the body was as fresh and new as the icy tautness of a stream-
who knew what was
coming next.
there's no saying what it might
do, now, have done.
now, later, the tired review of morning; emptying into the large bowl,
inevitable horizon over water; the quiet level, resounding.
mystery worn from the unseen edges of elbows;  throat creaks like dry pine beams, voice as frail as ice.
as sore joints radiate the painful memory of newness,
there is a faint glimmer of the eyes, & at one time
by *antonfrost

cakea small exception, a spectacle intended, a cause and an effect of celebration.
the borders frosted just this morning, unusual sweetness so early-
hours old,
begging scent,
freshness overwhelming death, threat of decay.
day set aside,
an exercise of power;
this day beside all others.
pass it on, the cherished memorable corners. a gathering there.
what a life. what a day today is. cake
by *antonfrost

intrusionwalking in
on something incomplete, half-dressed;
a small secret too large for the elbows that hold
it in.
an amelodic song closes in, becomes the center,
not a whole lot surrounded by too much.
someone inflicts
on you the memory of them,
scent of a homestead, a strange respect for something nearly yours.
a song is sung, the empty halls everywhere,
the world of interpretation of the world.
where is this
before it's here? intrusion
by *antonfrost

bridge river
by *antonfrost

millions of miles
by *antonfrost

at home
by *antonfrost

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my favorite book

Journal Entry: Fri Oct 23, 2009, 4:35 PM

i could spend hours going through the dictionary. i love hitting on random pages, and looking for interesting, unknown words...finding them is like the salient pleasure of finding the particular puzzle piece you need.

some words are so satisfying, like quondam, pelagic, fumarole, eidolon, effete, austral, helix, pinnace, etcetera. mmmmm.

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Mood: Zest

Skin by *Eric64

Devious Info

Current Residence: grand haven, michigan
Interests: color
Favourite band or musician: u2, muse, cat power, radiohead, tori amos, regina spektor, lots more
Favourite genre of music: alternative/indie/90's
Favourite poet or writer: gary snyder, robert creeley, charles bukowski, e.e. cummings, kurt vonnegut, jonathan safran foer
Favourite style of art: abstract
Favourite game: i play "never use capitalization"...i always win.
Personal Quote: "beauty is its own excuse for being" --From "The Rhodora" by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Tools of the Trade: notebook and pen

Email: armeltony@gmail.com

deviantID

i am a poet.
i got my b.a. in english from grand valley state university in allendale, michigan.

quotes

"I am still a long way from myself,
but I want to become Me!"
--From "The Young Hebbel" by Gottfried Benn

"Whatever the sky says the river throws it back."
--from "River Town Equations" by Carl Sandburg

"Only the poet can validate him- or herself. There is no other reference or judgment that can give more than an opinion. Opinions are rightly and generously the response an art may depend upon, but they do not determine what it is or can be."
--From "Reflections on Whitman in Age" by Robert Creeley

"Longing, we say, because desire is full of endless distances"
--From "Meditation at Lagunitas" by Robert Hass

From the novel "The Chosen"

"Human beings do not live forever, Reuven. We live less than the time it takes to blink an eye, if we measure our lives against eternity. So it may be asked what value is there to a human life. There is so much pain in the world. What does it mean to have to suffer so much if our lives are nothing more than the blink of an eye?...I learned a long time ago, Reuven, that a blink of an eye in itself is nothing. But the eye that blinks, THAT is something. A span of life is nothing. But the man who lives that span, HE is something. He can fill that tiny span with meaning, so its quality is immeasurable though its quantity may be insignificant. Do you understand what I am saying? A man must fill his life with meaning, meaning is not automatically given to life. It is hard work to fill one's life with meaning."

Novel is by Chaim Potok