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Jim Culleny
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Deliberate So by sixteen we move in packs learn to strut and slide in deliberate lowdown rhythm talk in syn/co/pa/ted beat because we want so bad to be cool, never to be mistaken for white, even when we leave these... Continue reading
Posted 12 hours ago at 3quarksdaily
The Tip Just days before the crash that killed him, my father lost the tip of his index finger while working on the same vehicle that would take him away. I recall my mother’s scream that brought me out of... Continue reading
Posted 2 days ago at 3quarksdaily
(Not so) random selections from Jim Harrison’s Returning to Earth, (a section of a larger collection-1982) which, when I read them this morning occasionally glancing out the window at a new day’s emerging shadows, were shaded beautifully but sadly by... Continue reading
Posted 3 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Mrs. Kessler Mr. Kessler, you know, was in the army, And he drew six dollars a month as a pension, And stood on the corner talking politics, Or sat at home reading Grant’s Memoirs; And I supported the family by... Continue reading
Posted 4 days ago at 3quarksdaily
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Olive Oatman It was the charcoal they couldn’t stand. Sister Maddy tried and tried to get it out —bleach and scrub till my skin peeled— but the marks stayed, black as the stripes on a hawk’s wing. Maddy took the... Continue reading
Posted 7 days ago at 3quarksdaily
Ballad in A A Kansan plays cards, calls Marshal a crawdad, that barb lands that rascal a slap; that Kansan jackass scats, camps back at caballada ranch. Hangs kack, ax, and camp hat. Kansan’s nag mad and rants can’t bask,... Continue reading
Posted Jan 8, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
Orb Spider I saw her, pegging out her web thin as a pressed flower in the bleaching light. From the bushes a few small insects clicked like opening seed-pods. I knew some would be trussed up by her and gone... Continue reading
Posted Jan 6, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
Working the Stacks Reach up for the light cord and tug through its little knot of resistance, and there’s Samuel Johnson, sharing the floor with Nietzche, Anthony Trollope, Franz Fanon, Osbert and Edith Sitwell, German small-print dictionaries, black bound insurance... Continue reading
Posted Jan 4, 2017 at 3quarksdaily
Visiting the Oracle It’s dark on purpose so just listen. Maybe I inherit a jar, maybe a pot, maybe nothing. Only this loose end of a voice rising to meet you. It sounds like water. Don’t think about that. Let... Continue reading
Posted Dec 31, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The Leaving My father said I could not do it, but all night I picked the peaches. The orchard was still, the canals ran steadily. I was a girl then, my chest its own walled garden. How many ladders to... Continue reading
Posted Dec 30, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Mint It looked like a clump of small dusty nettles Growing wild at the gable of the house Beyond where we dropped our refuse and old bottles Unverdant ever, almost beneath notice. But, to be fair, it also spelled promise... Continue reading
Posted Dec 29, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Everybody Made Soups After it all, the events of the holidays, the dinner tables passing like great ships, everybody made soups for a while. Cooked and cooked until the broth kept the story of the onion, the weeping meat. It... Continue reading
Posted Dec 28, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
After Lunch And after noon the well-dressed creatures come To sniff among the dead And have their lunch And all the many well-dressed creatures pluck The swollen avocados from the dust And stir the minestrone with stray bones And after... Continue reading
Posted Dec 27, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
More Lying, Loving Facts, You Sort ‘Em Out . For a long time the Spanish from Spain Who came here became slightly insane In a special way and just a little. You can try this yourself. Walk farther than you... Continue reading
Posted Dec 24, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Phone Call on a Train Journey The smallest human bone in the ear weighs no more than a grain of rice. She keeps thinking it means something but probably is nothing. Something’s lost, she craves it hunting in pockets, sleeves,... Continue reading
Posted Dec 16, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The dead seal near McClure’s Beach 1. ..........Walking north toward the point, I came on a dead seal. From a few feet away, he looks like a brown log. The body is on its back, dead only a few hours.... Continue reading
Posted Dec 11, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Tanka Diary (Awakened too early on Saturday morning) Awakened too early on Saturday morning by the song of a mockingbird imitating my clock radio alarm. * Walking along the green path with buds in my ears, too engrossed in the... Continue reading
Posted Dec 9, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The Morning’s News by Wendell Berry To moralize the state, they drag out a man, and bind his hands, and darken his eyes with a black rag to be free of the light in them, and tie him to a... Continue reading
Posted Dec 8, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
On Auden’s Musee des Beaux Arts Not for me so much do I care what it means— the parent smiling while her child’s skating, cutting figure eights over a pond’s ice, veil between two worlds. One- a world to laugh... Continue reading
Posted Dec 4, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Ghost Writing I live with ghosts. Laggard ghosts who wear their fatigue like a sheet Petulant, unrepentant ghosts who never sleep Ghosts like mouth sores Ghosts that look me in the eye at midday and buzz in my ears in... Continue reading
Posted Dec 3, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The Reading Room had at its center an enormous globe that showed the way the world was. It turned as easily about its expensive spindle as the world itself and I spun it slowly, exploring place after place, each country... Continue reading
Posted Dec 2, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Saigon, The Movie James Bond flies into Phuket, which he pronounces Fukit and this announces the demise of the colonial era. My mother sits on the Left Bank, harvesting rice. The Baron announces his arrival with a slice of lemon... Continue reading
Posted Nov 29, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Robert Harrington 1558 Get you, with your almain rivetts (latest fad from Germany), and your corselet, and your two coats of plate! How much harness does a man need? None, when he’s in his grave. Your sons may have it,... Continue reading
Posted Nov 25, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The Republic of Conscience I At immigration, the clerk was an old man who produced a wallet from his homespun coat and showed me a photograph of my grandfather. The woman in customs asked me to declare the words of... Continue reading
Posted Nov 24, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
What we want and what we get are often at odds Today’s tales are unstraight histories They often have jogs ........ —Roshi Bob ___________________________________________ From the Frontier of Writing the tightness and the nilness round that space when the car... Continue reading
Posted Nov 22, 2016 at 3quarksdaily