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Jim Culleny
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Gathering Mushrooms . As he knelt by the grave of his mother and father the taste of dill, or tarragon- he could barely tell one from the other- filled his mouth. It seemed as if he might smother. Why should... Continue reading
Posted yesterday at 3quarksdaily
Hedgehog The snail moves like a Hovercraft, held up by a Rubber cushion of itself, Sharing its secret With the hedgehog. The hedgehog Shares its secret with no one. We say, Hedgehog, come out Of yourself and we will love... Continue reading
Posted 2 days ago at 3quarksdaily
The First Circle 1. the flat end of sorrow here two crows fighting over New Year’s Party leftovers. From my cell, I see a cold hard world. 2. So this is the abscess that hurts the nation – jails, torture,... Continue reading
Posted 3 days ago at 3quarksdaily
The Clod and the Pebble 'Love seeketh not itself to please, Nor for itself hath any care, But for another gives its ease, And builds a heaven in hell's despair.' So sung a little clod of clay, Trodden with the... Continue reading
Posted 4 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Thank You Danke, merci, gracias for the heat of the sun, the kindness of teaching, the smell of fresh bread. Diolch, nkosi, shur-nur-ah-gah-lem for the sound of sand, children singing, the book and the pen. Dhannyabad, blagodaria, hvala for the... Continue reading
Posted 6 days ago at 3quarksdaily
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“I carve to the beat of the heart” ................... — Barbara Hepworth From her high window an arc of blue almost Aegean where white gulls circle and mew against a canvas of Cornish light. Below an oasis of shadows palms... Continue reading
Posted Jul 26, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
From a Balcony . The sun is an orange from the Peloponnese staining clouds and stuccoed walls, sailboats tacking out to sea. Damson shapes chase light from under vines; shadows grope their way, thick arabesques of lace furrowed at the... Continue reading
Posted Jul 24, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
The Full Indian Rope Trick There was no secret murmured down through a long line of elect; no dark fakir, no flutter of notes from a pipe, no proof, no footage of it – but I did it, Guildhall Square,... Continue reading
Posted Jul 22, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
a third possibility I fired the brush pile by the creek and leaping gargoyles of flame fled over it, fed on it, roaring, and made one flame that stood tall in its own wind, snapping off points of itself that... Continue reading
Posted Jul 19, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Dangerous Astronomy I wanted to walk outside and praise the stars, But David, my baby son, coughed and coughed. His comfort was more important than the stars So I comforted and kissed him in his dark Bedroom, but my comfort... Continue reading
Posted Jul 18, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Lament for the Makers . Not bird not badger not beaver not bee Many creatures must make, but only one must seek within itself what to make My father’s ring was a B with a dart through it, in diamonds... Continue reading
Posted Jul 17, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Just across the border from north Texas, my car broke, the land’s heat hovered above the defunct road I’d rolled it onto with the clump of empty, yellowish buildings at the dead end, the exit on the interstate being there... Continue reading
Posted Jul 16, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
God or No God . Deer not clacking through snow crust after apples, crows thankfully asleep, coyotes whispering to young not yet ready to test their pipes— midnight is broken by my sump-pump disgorging the day’s melt-seep. Yes. What can... Continue reading
Posted Jul 15, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
after Osip Mandelstam Streets of Kiev In Red Square, giant plasma screens loom blank and wall-eyed, there’s no news today. The Kremlin thug needs time to think. He never counts his losses, pays no heed to them. His mongoloid eyes... Continue reading
Posted Jul 14, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Bird When I became a bird, Lord, nothing could not stop me. The air feathered as I knelt by my open window for the charm – black on gold, last star of the dawn. Singing, they came: throstles, jenny wrens,... Continue reading
Posted Jul 12, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Only a Few —a Ghazal From Ghalib سب کہاں کچھ لالہ و گل میں نمایاں ہو گئیں خاک میں کیا صورتیں ہونگی کہ پنہاں ہو گئیں . Not all, only a few come back to us in tulips. Many more... Continue reading
Posted Jul 9, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Stridulation Sonnet Tiger beetles, crickets, velvet ants, all know the useful friction of part on part, how rub of wing to leg, plectrum to file, marks territories, summons mates. How a lip rasped over finely tined ridges can play sweet... Continue reading
Posted Jul 8, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Secret I shall make a song like you hair . . . Gold-woven with shadows green-tinged, And I shall play with my song As my fingers might play with your hair. Deep in my heart I shall play with my... Continue reading
Posted Jul 5, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Bicycles in the Sixties Early morning, f... Continue reading
Posted Jul 3, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Tia Olivia Serves Wallace Stevens a Cuban Egg . The ration books voided, there was little to eat, so Tía Olivia ruffled four hens to serve Stevens a fresh criollo egg. The singular image lay limp, floating in a circle... Continue reading
Posted Jul 1, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
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. . . . . . . . . The Horses of Chauvet the horses of Chauvet lope through a cave eloquently old and new true and lush as the love and lust our progenitors knew and craved . by... Continue reading
Posted Jun 29, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
The Little Vagabond Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold, But the Ale-house is healthy & pleasant & warm; Besides I can tell where I am use'd well, Such usage in heaven will never do well. But if at... Continue reading
Posted Jun 28, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Monolith . At the foot of a northern pylon of the Harbour Bridge I have kept my vigil since the mighty span was built. I come early in the day from worn-out corners of the area and sit when the... Continue reading
Posted Jun 27, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Demeter, Waitiing No. Who can bear it. Only someone who hates herself, who believes to pull a hand back from a daughter’s cheek is to put love into her pocket— like one of those ashen Christian philosophers, or a war-bound... Continue reading
Posted Jun 26, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Ten Acres of Small Factories . Count from one to ten, from ten to a hundred, from a hundred to a thousand. A thousand peach blossoms. A thousand peonies. A thousand winter plums. They all look really beautiful. A thousand... Continue reading
Posted Jun 25, 2015 at 3quarksdaily