Category Archives: Other poetry

The Unaccommodating

Your Monday Blessing: The Unaccommodating The 21st century will be the century of the unaccommodating. The earth will not fall in line with your procurement request. The ocean has not even read the listing on your beachfront property. The oil … Continue reading

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FIRST

With these auspicious lines, the poet commences The earliest poem of the Australopithecus anamensis. Or were you first? Did those acuminated senses Place the objects of the world within your bars, And did that mouth of yours grunt out an … Continue reading

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What Keeps Time?

What keeps time? Heartbeats steps a circle, pulled through its circumference a jar, beneath some papers, in a cupboard a tick a dinosaur, reshaped and reappraised rings on a tree waves, microwaves, and train goodbyes the folded hands of a … Continue reading

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The Diner

The night before I got married, there was a diner. It was across the street from the motel where we were staying – where I was staying, and my friends, and a few various of my family, and the night … Continue reading

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Your Monday Blessing: the water

Let me tell you a story about myself. I came from the water – before I had this body, I mean, when I was all ambition and a few tendrils. I came from the water, and flopped up onto the … Continue reading

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Juliette Gréco is singing Over the Rainbow

Juliette Gréco is singing Over the Rainbow as she walks home through Paris after her interrogation by the Gestapo. Judy Garland, full-throated, echoes off the Boulevards, decommissioning silence, adding a few notes to joy’s chapter in the book of life. … Continue reading

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horseradish

While I am eating horseradish, it occurs to me there are at this very moment people who are trying to avert an international scandal that might affect one’s standing on the world’s stage, not to mention their investments in the … Continue reading

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Your Monday blessing comes from a place dear to my heart. I’ve come to know the Warrington YMCA, as well as their affiliated night shelter, a little over the last two years. Twice a month or so, a few of … Continue reading

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Flight Mode

The only things real are grief and joy. As seagulls try out wheelies in the sky between blacktops, my children earn their wings on toys that were a history lesson when I was young. I leave my cell on mute, … Continue reading

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Signs of the Times

What is poetry? Only the poets ask themselves this; everyone knows. It’s rhymes and lines and lavender bows.   What is art? The new exhibit’s about this, but nobody goes. The world is too full of television shows.   What … Continue reading

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