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Jim Culleny
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Mornings at Seven Wild geese stir in the early morning calm with the ripple of their wake. Far off, near the shore’s arm of dune that holds the pond, a kayak glides, someone seeking peace and looking up to find... Continue reading
Posted 5 hours ago at 3quarksdaily
Sweet Bread It is a terrible struggle she tells me, pulling dough from the bowl. Waking up every morning for sixty-five years, over forty next to him. He says you snore, I offer and she rolls the dough tighter, twisting... Continue reading
Posted 3 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Work my son, who's seventeen years old, rides his bicycle to work in the heat and rain, and his legs and arms are bony and muscled old men love to send them into the smoke and trenches, into the knowledge... Continue reading
Posted 4 days ago at 3quarksdaily
In Kashmir, it is the boys, [and everyone] —Dedicated to the killed, maimed, blinded, imprisoned, .... curfewed in Kashmir It is the boys, says the government man on the Indian TV who the parents should ask to stay away away... Continue reading
Posted 5 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Middle of the Way 1 I wake in the night, An old ache in the shoulder blades. I lie amazed under the trees That creak a little in the dark, The giant trees of the world. I lie on earth... Continue reading
Posted 7 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Untitled Mystical? Too clinical. God? The name has been smoked down to a stub. For sixteen years I have ransacked the universe, unsealing files, lifting lyrics, looking for a way to say how it was. Because we have no word... Continue reading
Posted Aug 23, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The Peace of Wild Things When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down... Continue reading
Posted Aug 21, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Here and There I sit and meditate—my dog licks her paws on the red-brown sofa so many things somehow it all is reduced to numbers letters figures without faces or names only jagged lines across the miles half-shadows going into... Continue reading
Posted Aug 20, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Winter Rye On an evening of broccoli And Billy Collins My mind drifts back to May, When the pale-green bermuda Replaced the winter rye, and my father Dutifully attended to his guests. He poured the wine and laughed At little... Continue reading
Posted Aug 19, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The Problem of Describing Trees The aspen glitters in the wind And that delights us. The leaf flutters, turning, Because that motion in the heat of August Protects its cells from drying out. Likewise the leaf Of the cottonwood. The... Continue reading
Posted Aug 18, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
My Aunts Always caught up in what they called the practical side of life (theory was for Plato), up to their elbows in furniture, in bedding, in cupboards and kitchen gardens, they never neglected the lavender sachets that turned a... Continue reading
Posted Aug 16, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The Lights Going on in the Rooms Strung Out Back Through the Years . the way the blue moon (remembered) lights up as you turn to ….be held and to hold me your .. beholder . by Anselm Hollo from... Continue reading
Posted Aug 14, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Men With Heads of Eagles Men with the heads of eagles no longer interest me or pig-men, or those who can fly with the aid of wax and feathers or those who take off their clothes to reveal other clothes... Continue reading
Posted Aug 13, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Exquisite Politics The perfect voter has a smile but no eyes, maybe not even a nose or hair on his or her toes, maybe not even a single sperm cell, ovum, little paramecium. Politics is a slug copulating in a... Continue reading
Posted Aug 12, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Letting Go I love the abandon of abandoned things the harmonium surrendering in a churchyard in Aherlow, the hearse resigned to nettles behind a pub in Carna, the tin dancehall possessed by convolvulus in Kerry, the living room that hosts... Continue reading
Posted Aug 7, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
In Which the Cartographer tells Off the Rastaman The cartographer sucks his teeth and says – every language, even yours, is a partial map of this world – it is the man who never learnt the word ‘scrupe’ – sound... Continue reading
Posted Aug 6, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Questions of Travel There are too many waterfalls here; the crowded streams hurry too rapidly down to the sea, and the pressure of so many clouds on the mountaintops makes them spill over the sides in soft slow-motion, turning to... Continue reading
Posted Aug 5, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
One Child Has Brown Eyes One child has brown eyes, one has blue One slanted, another rounded One so nearsighted he squints internal One had her extra epicanthic folds removed One downcast, one couldn’t be bothered One roams the heavens... Continue reading
Posted Aug 3, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
For Mohammed Zeid of Gaza, Age 15 There is no stray bullet, sirs. No bullet like a worried cat crouching under a bush, no half-hairless puppy bullet dodging midnight streets. The bullet could not be a pecan plunking the tin... Continue reading
Posted Aug 2, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
—After “E. 1999 Eternal” by Bone Thugs-n-Harmony Of Darker Ceremonies Dear god of armed robberies and puff-puff-pass, a chalk outline unpeels from the street, smashes every windshield, and leaves florid temples of crack on porches. Burnt-black pleats of   joint-pressed lips... Continue reading
Posted Jul 31, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Lot’s Wife They say I looked back out of curiosity. But I could have had other reasons. I looked back mourning my silver bowl. Carelessly, while tying my sandal strap. So I wouldn't have to keep staring at the righteous... Continue reading
Posted Jul 30, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Equal opportunities A son and a daughter. The mother prefers the son to the daughter. The son will stand by his mother through the vicissitudes of life. The daughter will produce another son to stand by her side. An aphorism... Continue reading
Posted Jul 29, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The Onion The onion, now that’s something else. Its innards don’t exist. Nothing but pure onionhood fills this devout onionist. Oniony on the inside, onionesque it appears. It follows its own daimonion without our human tears. Our skin is just... Continue reading
Posted Jul 28, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Everyone was in Love . One day, when they were little, Maud and Fergus appeared in the doorway naked and mirthful, with a dozen long garter snakes draped over each of them like brand-new clothes. Snake trails dangled down their... Continue reading
Posted Jul 27, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
—from the sculpture by Rodin Within the Whirling Moment . Those lovers linked in bronze will not escape the wonder of their first embrace. Today's passion is blown of air not hewn in stone: a fragmenting spiral within the whirling... Continue reading
Posted Jul 26, 2016 at 3quarksdaily