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Jim Culleny
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These Eggs I carry them up old stairways into unfamiliar rooms, I lie down with them on the blue and white bedspread, and talk to myself openly about the future. These eggs survive my hatred of my mother, of the... Continue reading
Posted 18 hours ago at 3quarksdaily
Trees are People and the People are Trees And there in the crowded commons three hundred striding people, gesturing, eating the air, halted around us, suddenly quiet. They sprouted leaves and cones, they wore strange bark for clothing, and gently... Continue reading
Posted yesterday at 3quarksdaily
martha promise receives leadbelly, 1935 when your man comes home from prison, when he comes back like the wound and you are the stitch, when he comes back with pennies in his pocket and prayer fresh on his lips, you... Continue reading
Posted 2 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Dear Melissa a curve billed thrasher is cleaning its beak on the ground— we are closer now than ever—sitting in shadow—I never want to scare anyone—not really—I have a friend who loves people who come out suddenly—in the dark— pleasure... Continue reading
Posted 4 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Persian Letters Dear Aleph, Like Ovid: I’ll have no last words. This is what it means to die among barbarians. Bar bar bar was how the Greeks heard our speech — sheep, beasts — and so we became barbarians. We make them reveal... Continue reading
Posted 5 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Desired Appreciation Until now, now that I’ve reached my thirties: All my Muse’s poetry has been harmless: American and diplomatic: a learned helplessness Is what psychologists call it: my docile, desired state. I’ve been largely well-behaved and gracious. I’ve learned... Continue reading
Posted 7 days ago at 3quarksdaily
38 Here, the sentence will be respected. I will compose each sentence with care by minding what the rules of writing dictate. For example, all sentences will begin with capital letters. Likewise, the history of the sentence will be honored... Continue reading
Posted Oct 18, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The woman is about hair gathering on the ground and between the breasts that move up and down with each breath in suffering. In twenty years I will exist. Even if i’m dead in twenty years I will exist more... Continue reading
Posted Oct 15, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
And Ut Pictura Poesis Is Her Name You can’t say it that way any more. Bothered about beauty you have to Come out into the open, into a clearing, And rest. Certainly whatever funny happens to you Is OK. To... Continue reading
Posted Oct 14, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
[go on sister sing your song] go on sister sing your song lady redbone señora rubia took all day long shampooing her nubia she gets to the getting place without or with him must I holler when you’re giving me... Continue reading
Posted Oct 11, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
All the Dead Boys Look Like Me Last time, I saw myself die is when police killed Jessie Hernandez A 17 year old brown queer, who was sleeping in their car Yesterday, I saw myself die again. Fifty times I... Continue reading
Posted Oct 9, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Perspective When I see the two cops laughing after one of them gets shot because this is TV and one says while putting pressure on the wound, Haha, you're going to be fine, and the other says, I know, haha!,... Continue reading
Posted Oct 7, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Lamenta: 423 “peacekeeping troops” “tanks beneath the windows” The inside of someone else’s dwelling visible — a table and some chairs. You start to count one, two, three, four . . . until the explosion is near your neighborhood. You... Continue reading
Posted Oct 6, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Joe Gillon Hypnotizes his Son For my father When you wake up, in your fourteenth year, I’m forty, the attrition of muscle fiber in me will (energy cannot be, etc.) appear in you as a new flex. You’ll write vers... Continue reading
Posted Oct 4, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
After Lorca —for M. Marti The church is a business, and the rich are the business men. When they pull on the bells, the poor come piling in and when a poor man dies, he has a wooden cross, and... Continue reading
Posted Oct 2, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
For My Sister Molly Who In The Fifties Once made a fairy rooster from Mashed potatoes Whose eyes I forget But green onions were his tail And his two legs were carrot sticks A tomato slice his crown. Who came... Continue reading
Posted Oct 1, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
A word is no-thing with immanent substance and power and so should be treated with great respect —Anonymous . Magic Words In the very earliest time, when both people and animals lived on earth, a person could become an animal... Continue reading
Posted Sep 30, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Clochard In Paris, on a day that stayed morning until dusk, in a Paris like - in a Paris which - (save me, sacred folly of description!) in a garden by a stone cathedral (bit built, no, rather played upon... Continue reading
Posted Sep 29, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Where do we Go From Here Through the cold glass of a winter window where crazed weather holds my breath to task, a tangled canopy of tree and sky becomes that ornately carved pediment: Banteay Shrei in late afternoon just... Continue reading
Posted Sep 28, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
A Dream Deferred . What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over— like... Continue reading
Posted Sep 27, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Trust It’s like so many other things in life to which you must say no or yes. So you take your car to the new mechanic. Sometimes the best thing to do is trust. The package left with the disreputable-looking... Continue reading
Posted Sep 25, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The Power of Maples If you want to live in the country you have to understand the power of maples. You have to see them sink their teeth into the roots of the old locusts. You have to see them... Continue reading
Posted Sep 24, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
RIP Philando Castile, Alton Sterling, Dallas police officers Lorne Ahrens, Michael Krol, Michael J. Smith, Brent Thompson, and Patrick Zamarripa—and all their families. And to all those injured. @ the Crossroad —a Sudden American Poem . Let us celebrate the... Continue reading
Posted Sep 23, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Then Ay Know My Horse Then Ay know my horse, let alive and out of days, hide now paled, hind legs slow to drag, lower head to lift, hoof-split, burred and rough from the dirt. Strange when Ay speak to... Continue reading
Posted Sep 21, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Settling for the Night It’s a custom with my youngest to sprinkle “sleeping dust” over his eyes before closing them, combing the sleep down through his hair and tenderly over his forehead good night, Dad, good night… I listen to... Continue reading
Posted Sep 20, 2016 at 3quarksdaily