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Jim Culleny
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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 3 hours ago 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 2 days ago 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 3 days ago 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 4 days ago 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 5 days ago 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 6 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Memories of Wolodymyr Serotiuk's Birthday Sometimes, riding on a train I think of you in the thirties and can hardly keep from crying. We were a carousel governed by an out of whack calliope gypsing from Toronto to Geraldton to... Continue reading
Posted 7 days ago at 3quarksdaily
"The devil took Jesus to a high mountain and showed him all the world and said, I'll give you all of this if you'll worship me." . The Third Temptation LISTEN He watched with all his organs of concern How... Continue reading
Posted Jun 21, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
In My Spare Time During my long, boring hours of spare time I sit to play with the earth’s sphere. I establish countries without police or parties and I scrap others that no longer attract consumers. I run roaring rivers... Continue reading
Posted Jun 19, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
The First Man on the Moon . now i’ve been here a week. a year, a day – seen all there is to be seen: dust, dust, dust – eyes now only for the blue balloon of the earth hanging... Continue reading
Posted Jun 17, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Snow Lost in an infinity of misted mirrors among shelves of Optrex, Pepsodent and pink calamine, I dunked net petticoats into sugar solution to froth out the nylon frills of that first dance dress. Hanging it to drip-dry over the... Continue reading
Posted Jun 16, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Public Space . Wandering wordless through the heat of High Park. High summer. Counting the chipmunks who pause and demand the scrub stand by till their flitty, piggybacked equal signs can think through this math of dogwood, oak-whip, mulch. Children... Continue reading
Posted Jun 12, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
House of the Poor When I was a little boy I never questioned why A solitary path Led from a poor man’s hut. Why it zigzagged Like the trail of a wounded beast. Now that I’m a burdened man I... Continue reading
Posted Jun 11, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Homan and Chicago Ave. Cross the blood that quilts your busted lip with the tender tip of   your tongue. That lip’s blood is brackish and white meat flares from the black swell. You crossed your mama’s mind so call her... Continue reading
Posted Jun 9, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Rhubarb My Clan Mother is the great she-devil of the forest. She stands twenty feet over fields of wild rhubarb, Dutch cabbage. Her face is black, blacker than the blue of night where stars shed tears into rivers, lakes, onto... Continue reading
Posted Jun 7, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Hold the bird in the left hand, and commence to pull off the feathers from under the wing. Having plucked one side, take the other wing and proceed in the same manner, until all the feathers are removed. - Mrs... Continue reading
Posted Jun 5, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
I Will Consider my Cat Jeoffry . For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry. For he is the servant of the Living God, duly and daily serving him. For at the first glance of the glory of God in the... Continue reading
Posted Jun 4, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Some Love Poems 1 There you go this morning with frost in your parka down London Road I’d know your walk anywhere But I’m not there I’m in this dumb room with your blond hair & all the beautiful lines... Continue reading
Posted Jun 2, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Shackleton's Biscuit Of ox and luncheon tongue, six hundred pounds; of Wiltshire bacon, seven-tenths of a ton. Seventeen hundred miles they walked, and it was pony meat that saved them. But one biscuit, this one Of thousands, baked by Huntley... Continue reading
Posted May 30, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Different Rose . I gave birth to an incredibly beautiful daughter, her teeth, her hair as though from the Song of Songs. And I felt beautiful myself, thank you. Whereas she – that's a completely different beauty, that's beauty I... Continue reading
Posted May 29, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Tonight You are being born. Feels good. Something enormous kisses you. Its eye surveys your revolutions. Relaxed in your new nudity. you work your labyrinthine ears, those perfect disciples, registering all that hums, ticks. O you encyclopedia you, you do... Continue reading
Posted May 28, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
No Snow Fell On Eden . as i remember it – there was no snow, so no thaw or tao as you say no snowmelt drooled down the brae; no human footfall swelled into that of a yeti baring what... Continue reading
Posted May 26, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Lost Things, Found Hopes . For Nietzsche, hope was the beginning of loss. But we can be even more radical: the beginning of anything is the beginning of loss. We all lose, but some lose more slowly than others. ‘How’s... Continue reading
Posted May 23, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Six Francs Seventy-Five Each night we bought red wine from a small supermarket Not too far from the Seine, where an overweight deaf teller Smiled whenever we walked in. At the counter he read our lips As we bought the... Continue reading
Posted May 22, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Captain of the Lighthouse The late hour trickles into morning. The cattle low profusely by the anthill where brother and I climb and call Land’s End. We are watchmen overlooking a sea of hazel-acacia-green, over torrents of dust whipping about... Continue reading
Posted May 21, 2015 at 3quarksdaily