Hours in Oxford
This is my first attempt at a “found poem,” in which every phrase was taken from another article or articles. In this case, it was a single article from the New York Times that can be found here.
It starts with learning centuries.
The lodging houses comfort
on any day brilliant students that sought
sustenance and traditional pubs—
it’s always precisely
half the price to remember them better.
Watch the clock, though:
it’s a darkish den that attracts
coffins and mummies before
the prize museum was rebuilt
(with significantly less success).
The “devil’s toast” at dinner for two
asked the same question in 1645,
buried away on a back road—
but no worries, they’ve been upgraded
since then. Bike down the path
and the river will lead you back to town
if you pretend you’re tired
outside under the willow tree.