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Jim Culleny
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The Half-Finished Heaven Depression breaks off its course. Anxiety breaks of its course. The vulture breaks off in flight. The fervent light pours out, even the ghosts take a drink. And our paintings are revealed, our Ice Age studio's red... Continue reading
Posted yesterday at 3quarksdaily
Shirt I remember once I ran after you and tagged the fluttering shirt of you in the wind. Once many days ago I drank a glassful of something and the picture of you shivered and slid on top of the... Continue reading
Posted 3 days ago at 3quarksdaily
A Hunger Artist I think of Kafka's man who could not find a food he liked, who could not compromise, who starved refusing the stuff of compromise —the dross. Turning from this, licking the salt of hunger, savoring it. Faye... Continue reading
Posted 5 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Silence Everything contains some silence. Noise gets its zest from the small shark's-tooth- shaped fragments of rest angled in it. An hour of city holds maybe a minute of these remnants of a time when silence reigned, compact and dangerous... Continue reading
Posted 6 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Romanesque Arches Romanesque Arches inside the enormous Romanesque church, ----- tourists crammed into the half-darkness. Vault behind vault opening and no view of the whole. Several candle flames flickered. An angel without a face embraced me and whispered through my... Continue reading
Posted 7 days ago at 3quarksdaily
What She Looked Out Upon What she looked out upon through the small grille of the kitchen window was the exhausted clothesline strung across the yard, its soft and sagging middle a hammocked emptiness that crossed her eye's rest as... Continue reading
Posted Dec 5, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
the encounter Czeslaw Milosz read his poem, “Encounter,” in Polish. Next, he climbed into the wooden wagon of English and read it again. Then he recited the words in sign language, pulling on the rein of the lines and tightening... Continue reading
Posted Dec 3, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
Why Whales Are Back in New York City After a century, humpbacks migrate again to Queens. They left due to sewage and white froth banking the shores from polychlorinated- biphenyl-dumping into the Hudson and winnowing menhaden schools. But now grace,... Continue reading
Posted Dec 2, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
I walk Into Every Room and Yell Where the Mexicans At? i know we exist because of what we make. my dad works at a steel mill. he worked at a steel mill my whole life. at the party, the... Continue reading
Posted Dec 1, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
A Woman Made of Water it can’t be owned if it doesn’t exist. ~~ My father said to bloom but never fruit— a small trickle eating its way through stone. ~~ I am one kind of alive: I see everything... Continue reading
Posted Nov 30, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
Rain to Come Rain to come – the sky lies gray-silver behind soft clouds of a darker gray. The trees are quiet, their colors dark and heavy. So one enters the morning softly as if taking off one's hat in... Continue reading
Posted Nov 29, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
Jeanne Hebuterne, Modigliani's mistress, committed suicide on his death, while nine months pregnant, by throwing herself from a window. Nude with Blue Cushion They deepen, satiated with desire like the filming of trout pools by the clouding of the sun,... Continue reading
Posted Nov 28, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
The Moon Rose Over the Bay. I had a Lot of Feelings I am taken with the hot animal of my skin, grateful to swing my limbs and have them move as I intend, though |my knee, though my shoulder,... Continue reading
Posted Nov 24, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
Vocable —excerpt —for JKG Ninety now, you’re adrift on the vowel-stream, the crisp edge of all your five languages gone and we’re back to the least of language. It’s all one, your, his or my slight modulations of the bare... Continue reading
Posted Nov 23, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
There Is There is a creek. And there is an underground creek that can be located in old maps. And there is a human body such as that worn by Herodotus that can measure the creek by walking beside it.... Continue reading
Posted Nov 19, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
Relax —for anxious A. Bad things are going to happen. Your tomatoes will grow a fungus and your cat will get run over. Someone will leave the bag with the ice cream melting in the car and throw your blue... Continue reading
Posted Nov 18, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
Rutabaga You darken as my knife slices blushing at what you become. I save your thick leaves and purple skin to feed the cows. A peasant guest at any meal you agree to hide in fragrant stew or gleam nakedly... Continue reading
Posted Nov 17, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
Epistemology Mostly I’d like to feel a little less, know a little more. Knots are on the top of my list of what I want to know. Who was it who taught me to burn the end of the cord... Continue reading
Posted Nov 16, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
Lines written in days of growing darkness Every year we have been witness to it: how the world descends into a rich mash, in order that it may resume. And therefore who would cry out to the petals on the... Continue reading
Posted Nov 15, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
During Donald Trump's Inauguration I closed my eyes, to conjure from the 1950’s An image of that towering man Paul Robeson Singing his heart and soul across the border Between Washington State and Canada When tides of race and power... Continue reading
Posted Nov 14, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
A Noiseless Patient Spider A noiseless patient spider, I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated, Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding, It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself, Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly... Continue reading
Posted Nov 12, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
Oh My Pa-Pa Our fathers have formed a poetry workshop. They sit in a circle of disappointment over our fastballs and wives. We thought they didn’t read our stuff, whole anthologies of poems that begin, My father never, or those... Continue reading
Posted Nov 11, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
According to the Gospel of Yes It’s a thrill to say No. The way it smothers everything that beckons― Any baby in a crib will meet No’s palm on its mouth. And nothing sweet can ever happen ― to No―... Continue reading
Posted Nov 10, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
My Faithful Mother Tongue Faithful mother tongue, I have been serving you. Every night, I used to set before you little bowls of colors so you could have your birch, your cricket, your finch as preserved in my memory. This... Continue reading
Posted Nov 8, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
November month of long shadows at four p.m. mine’s oblique and dark not yet rain trees not yet bare garden? a magnificent ruin some summer roses burning above the leaf-litter of yesterday’s storm house quiet, still I watch the twilight... Continue reading
Posted Nov 7, 2017 at 3quarksdaily