Stories tagged poem

Authenticity in a Time of Consolidation

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Culture gives what it feels you deserve/ in the cul-de-sac of your time and place.

The Day the Internet Went Down

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The first time it happened the newsmen said the usual, “This just in…” Then just sat there staring straight into the camera for the longest time, nearly the whole news hour, waiting for there to be some kind of news, any news at all? But nothing, just tha

Closed Wide Open

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The useless circuits of the dead

Bird Words

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a thinking man's bird high above coated with scent of life

T.S. Eliot On His Deathbed

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I guess at the end you’re only looking forward. Or upward actually, since you can only lie there on your back looking upward, straight ahead toward infinity, your mouth in a grimace, with the ghostly pink lips peeled back from the teeth.

Burial of the Dead

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No canopic jars and fine Egyptian cotton.

I Doubt If They Would Cater to Everybody’s Yahoo

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Someone is filtering her news feeds. They know what she likes, because she’s a real Reality TV slut. She’s missing all the dirt on Obama and ISIS, and the collapse of the Greek economy. All she keeps getting are the latest feeds from the Bache

Thumbs Up Jesus

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Good buddy Jesus./ Life coach Jesus. Enthusiastic// and optimistic Jesus, no cross/ or crown of thorns in sight.

The Finger of Love

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Wasn’t that you Giving me the finger Or was it just A dead ringer For the finger of love? Finger of love Finger of love Did you find someone’s dog do On your doorstep last night Something didn’t smell right In the middle of the night

Woman in Shorts

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Woman in shorts chooses to remove her own clothes even as the men at the café continue to watch her without hooting once because they have learned how to contain themselves even while smoldering

U R Doomed

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the swarthy terror network

Closed Letter to Management

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don’t ask me to set my goals./ I have none except safe air to breathe,/ a reliable roof,/ something aromatic in the oven.

Philip Guston Painting, The Pit #2

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There’s an army of legs in the pit, with fires burning at both sides of the horizon, swept aside from the center like curtains. A painting of bright red water with orange rain falling through the blackened air, standing on the plain in the center,

Live Luscious

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The earthy texture of the/ black and the pungency of the green will/ soon mix with onion,

Here Comes the Sun/ There Goes the Moon

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still have the yellow rose that I did not throw into the grave.