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Jim Culleny
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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 6 hours ago 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 yesterday 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 2 days ago 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 5 days ago 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
Refugee Blues . Say this city has ten million souls, Some are living in mansions, some are living in holes: Yet there's no place for us, my dear, yet there's no place for us. Once we had a country and... Continue reading
Posted Nov 20, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Map to the Stars A Schwinn-ride away: Eagledale Plaza. Shopping strip of busted walkways, crooked parking spaces nicked like the lines on the sides of somebody’s mom-barbered head. Anchored by the Piccadilly disco, where a shootout was guaranteed every weekend,... Continue reading
Posted Nov 19, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The Squirt Under the Bed Who’s the squirt under your bed that unfurled his fist yesterday to pluck at my skirts? At dusk his goggley eyes seized me in their stare his lips in a crimson sulk a tumid tongue... Continue reading
Posted Nov 17, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Inheritance I dreamt last night of dying my daughter moved around my house handling this picking up that I lay in bed or in air watching trying to tell her which meant something what was kept through habit or poverty... Continue reading
Posted Nov 15, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Lost my Voice? Of Course —for Beanie* Lost my voice? Of course. You said “Poems of love and flowers are a luxury the Revolution cannot afford.” Here are the warm and juicy vocal cords, slithery, from my throat. Allow me... Continue reading
Posted Nov 13, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Discovery I believe in the great discovery. I believe in the man who will make the discovery. I believe in the fear of the man who will make the discovery. I believe in his face going white, His queasiness, his... Continue reading
Posted Nov 12, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The Children of the Poor What shall I give my children? Who are poor, Who are adjudged the leastwise of the land, Who are my sweetest lepers, who demand No velvet and no velvety velour; But who have begged me... Continue reading
Posted Nov 8, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
“Oh, nation, think hard on which who of you you choose to rule the house because it is not easy (once it's in) to evict the soul of a louse.” —Roshi Bob The Double Voice Two voices took turns using... Continue reading
Posted Nov 6, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The Mirror Is it in hopes to find or lose myself that I fill up my table now with Michelet and Motley? to ‘know how it was’ or to forget how it is— what else? Split at the root, neither... Continue reading
Posted Nov 5, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Poem in Three Parts Oh, on an early morning I think I shall live forever! I am wrapped in my joyful flesh, As the grass is wrapped in its clouds of green. Rising from bed where I dreamt of long... Continue reading
Posted Nov 4, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
Here and There I sit and meditate—my dog licks her paws on the red-brown sofa so many things somehow it all is reduced to numbers letters figures without faces or names only jagged lines across the miles half-shadows going into... Continue reading
Posted Oct 30, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
The Unknown Bird Three lovely notes he whistled, too soft to be heard If others sang; but others never sang In the great beech-wood all that May and June. No one saw him: I alone could hear him Though many... Continue reading
Posted Oct 28, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
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 Oct 27, 2016 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 Oct 26, 2016 at 3quarksdaily
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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 Oct 25, 2016 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 Oct 23, 2016 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 Oct 22, 2016 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 Oct 20, 2016 at 3quarksdaily