Charles William Hoffman's Posts
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June 02, 2008 02:30 AM EDT -- Oh, stop that, Carl. Stop that now.      You toil while we drink our fill. Those worries in the end do kill. Be seated and keep clean your troubled brow. Standing is for . . . more
April 16, 2008 06:35 PM EDT -- Beside a river green and,                     An old dusty path, Lies the end of all things known. Still stone and earth . . . more
April 01, 2008 07:20 PM EDT -- The row of silence Strikes the aisles The harmless violence Of empty smiles Of furrowed brows Of pushing plows Of stony eyes Of servant skies Their life is one of labor The light seems . . . more
March 16, 2008 04:44 PM EDT -- The Sorrows of a Lingering Sailor And the failed fisherman walks along the docks by night A cough in his mouth and a flameless cigarette in his hand He doesn't need another drag to bring . . . more
March 09, 2008 08:07 PM EDT -- Sandmen we're powdery people that wake up at night sit on our ankles and crumble in fright invisible sisters glances give chase droplets of destiny in watery fates smooth through . . . more
February 04, 2008 09:51 PM EST -- The moth fluttered, flying sporadically in all directions. Its chaotic movement made the boy assume the moth lacked a destination. It appeared to be stumbling through the air, spiraling like a descending . . . more
January 30, 2008 09:26 PM EST -- While at the MOMA I wrote this poem in response to Gustav Klimt's "The Park" You know nothing of eyes You square and bushy tree. You exist and perplex You insensative conundrum . . . more
January 30, 2008 07:51 PM EST -- I was at the MOMA today; there I saw Claude Monet's "Reflections of Clouds on the Water-lily Pond" and wrote this poem sitting on the bench, looking at the enchanting piece: To captivate . . . more
January 28, 2008 09:05 PM EST -- This is the follow-up to a poem I wrote called modern monster.  A Lingering Voice A nephew's knowledge burns through my mind, silencing surplus voices. After carnage, after death, still . . . more
January 28, 2008 08:59 PM EST -- It began as a comment but now that I've written this whole poem and a follow-up I feel inclined to make it its own article Buried beneath myself In the coffin of my mind Lives a second self . . . more
January 27, 2008 06:47 PM EST -- "Religion,religion... as a philosopher, I don't believe you can give religion, orany God of a religion, a specific name without people fighting overwhat names to use, even though they all seem . . . more
January 25, 2008 10:45 PM EST -- "I'm bald!" The girl exclaimed as her blatant blonde hair flapped to the rhythm of her panicked skipping. Her long, youthful legs stumbled over each other, resulting in a beautifully disorganized . . . more
January 25, 2008 10:21 PM EST -- His mother always used to joke, "It's a miracle you graduated preschool." Jeremy never laughed. His deficiency never seemed funny to him. "It may not seem like a big deal to you . . . more
January 25, 2008 08:32 PM EST -- A pious man, a happy christian, married early, married young. His wife birthed him a son within nine months of matrimony. The first son he named Matthew, and the next Mark, then Luke, then John. His wife . . . more
January 25, 2008 01:58 AM EST -- Through blinking eyes we may be missed, to wither and die is all we do. From womb to tomb, we're quickly thrown; our cradles are our caskets. Those that sleep beneath our feet, Are nascent and . . . more
 
Charles William Hoffman
Long Island, NY
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