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Jim Culleny
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Without You Again, damn it, radio, television, the papers. The powers that be, as expected, are consummate crooks. Those back in the days at least had some fear, today’s are no better. I’d forbid the days to pass without you,... Continue reading
Posted 10 hours ago 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 2 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Unfinished Book . The Achaeans have been pinned against their hollow ships all winter. Not because this is how the epic unfolds, but because this is where I left off, tired of the clashing of swords, the clamor of armor,... Continue reading
Posted 4 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Doors and Windows From our fears our courages are born, and in our doubts our certainties live. The dreams announce another possible reality, and the deliriums another reason. In the wanderings the findings are waiting for us, because it s... Continue reading
Posted 5 days ago at 3quarksdaily
The Nobodies Fleas dream of buying themselves a dog, and nobodies dream of escaping poverty: that one magical day good luck will suddenly rain down on them–will rain down in buckets. But good luck doesn’t rain down yesterday, today, tomorrow,... Continue reading
Posted 7 days ago at 3quarksdaily
—From the Washington Post - November 13, 1980: "It defies the laws of orbital mechanics as I understand them but two components of the fifth ring out are braided," said Dr. Bradford Smith of the University of Arizona, one of... Continue reading
Posted Feb 22, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
The Burial of the Poet’s Daughter —for Susie Iremonger What an assembly of the old! Of tangled grey hair! Of stooped backs and rheumatism! Of baldness, wrinkles and weak eyes! Their youth unrecognisable now – Experts at death this poetic... Continue reading
Posted Feb 21, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
It’s Our Dance —for Lorna Every Sunday I play Nina Simone’s ‘My baby just cares for me’ & with a different flower in your hair every week you spring out from the bar & I leave the mixing desk &... Continue reading
Posted Feb 20, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Tennis in the Snow You looked up from your book, and apropos of nothing, asked: Did I ever tell you I played tennis once in the snow? No, I said. You didn't. Where was this? Tennis in the snow! you... Continue reading
Posted Feb 19, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Soffly Soffly Nesta Skank . boy Marley armed & ganjaras soffly soffly his spliff a mystrical cloud thirsty as he pores into the book of nolej of wrong & rise ever so the drumthud & bass gong move us to... Continue reading
Posted Feb 18, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
The Men of My Country the men of my country give up their seats on the subway to the handicapped the aged and to the passengers with children but mostly they go on sitting since these categories of citizens have... Continue reading
Posted Feb 17, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
How to Catch a Baby Elephant You will need: 1 Jungle 1 Family of elephants, with calf 4-8 Men Guns Spears Pay off the local officials. Enter the jungle like a prowl of cats. Circle the elephants at their favorite... Continue reading
Posted Feb 15, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
since feeling is first since feeling is first who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you; wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world my blood approves, and kisses are better... Continue reading
Posted Feb 14, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
The Common Grace of Alone . A twenty-something boy coughs in his hand and puts the breath in his pocket. Dirty air— The air is dirty. I can see him clearly with the blue light in the car. I go... Continue reading
Posted Feb 13, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Congregation —Weir, Mississippi, 1984 Sara Ross, Great and Grand-mother of all rooted things waits on the family porch.
 We make our way back to her beginnings. Six daughters gather space and time 
in a small kitchen.
 Recipes as old as... Continue reading
Posted Feb 11, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Salt . Salt in a wound worth its weight in salt. Kiss that picques like fleur de sel de bretagne. Love preserved like lemon in salt. Preserved lemon, reserved love. Salt of you mixes with salt of me. Fish baked... Continue reading
Posted Feb 7, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Tinnitus My father’s tinnitus is like the hiss off a water cooler, only louder. And it doesn’t just stop like, say, a hand-dryer— the worst is it comes and goes. Or you shine a light on it and it looks... Continue reading
Posted Feb 5, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
As If It Were “This Is Our Music” — “mu” one hundred eighteenth part — Heaved our bags and headed out again. Again the ground that was to’ve been there wasn’t. Bits of ripcord crowded the box my head had be- come,... Continue reading
Posted Feb 3, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Still Light You picture your mother as a tree – somehow that makes it easier. A silver birch, undressing unhurriedly, as though days were years, while a fine rain plays like jazz in her hair. She drops her fine, white... Continue reading
Posted Feb 1, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Insomnia I wake up in the middle of the night hear the house settling, the ceiling creaking realize I have no bottled water canned food, flashlight, rifle or bullets stored in the hidden room off of my office my children... Continue reading
Posted Jan 27, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Crimson —“Darkening Red” a painting by Mark Rothko To explain crimson, the grotesque danger, the acute beauty and commotion of it, how it commands recollection, even after every trace is vanished, I describe our small faces smeared crimson sweet and... Continue reading
Posted Jan 24, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
A Soft, Bright Absence Oddly enough, relief rises when he opens the door. The steady thud of his steps, a falling night stick. He holds me & my heart thumps like the pulse of red & blue lights. The helicopter... Continue reading
Posted Jan 23, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Another Island The old man sleeps on the little lawn of the Korean Rosicrucian Church. He positions himself like a cardboard cutout all over Echo Park, sometimes by the curb at Safeway, sometimes staring there into the traffic as if... Continue reading
Posted Jan 22, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Protesting the Tornado —for the Westboro Baptist Church Tornados make no mistakes. We agree on this least of beliefs, that after disaster walls collapse back to ideas of houses, our careful game knocked to basic elements: raw planks, exposed nails.... Continue reading
Posted Jan 21, 2015 at 3quarksdaily
Toltecs . Radio about a foot-and-a-half wide swinging at his side. Three boys abreast and one has the radio playing loud rock they talk to as they walk past my house. Three boys dressed in their style of short jackets... Continue reading
Posted Jan 20, 2015 at 3quarksdaily