from I Have a Time Machine by Brenda Shaughnessy:
But unfortunately it can only travel into the future
at a rate of one second per second,
which seems slow to the physicists and to the grant
committees and even to me.
The long poem
So much to go wrong
from Mrs. Simpkins by Stevie Smith:
‘Since I crossed over dear friends’ it said ‘I’m no different to what I was before
Death’s not a separation or alteration or parting it’s just a one-handled door
We spirits can come back to you if your seance is orthodox
But you can’t come over to us till your body’s shut in a box
And this is the great thought I want to leave with you today
You’ve heard it before but in case you forgot death isn’t a passing away
It’s just a carrying on with friends relations and brightness
Only you don’t have to bother with sickness and there’s no financial tightness’
from The Poet of Ignorance by Anne Sexton:
There is an animal inside me,
clutching fast to my heart,
a huge crab.
The doctors of Boston. have thrown up their hands.
flowers in house winter
blooming before the freeze
from “The Caged Parts” by Harrison Cook:
The roar reaves like two cars ready for a street race, a gas pedal of a sound, starting low, growing louder till the boiling over of harsh breath.
When a cage is all you’ve known, born into, grew up in, will die in, what options are left but throwing your body toward the opening of any door?
- from On the Subject of Doctors by James Tate:
who gets to see
most sex organs in the world? Not
poets. With the hours they keep
they need drugs more than anyone.
gotta love a funny poem
sun baked question mark snake lost its skin
syllables ever grasping
like dying tendrils
I don’t understand haiku
cloud inkwashed ridgeline
from it’s more than a job, it’s a journey 🚂 by Kelly Mullins:
as a street sweeper slides down The Swindenstraat and I yell, “scabs!!” out the window a 1% merit increase in this economy is wage theft rage theft I swear to god my left eye migraine eucalyptus tea meditation would text my therapist but she ghosted me
it’s like, should I go on a walk
this is my kind of head exploding on the page poem, I recommend reading the whole thing
driftwood washed up on shore of landlocked train tracks
the blackberry underside
of a cloud
90% of blooms dropped while others begin to bud
haiku by Arvinder Kaur:
the maple sheds leaves
and gathers stars
wooden nickel moon reflecting poultry processing plant
red & blue all over orange poking through fall’s leaves
from The Creative Act by Rick Rubin 📚
There’s a time for certain ideas to arrive,
and they find a way
to express themselves through us.
dandruff in the wind
from Cantabria by Ben Meyerson:
days are deposited into what they once were.
All water is what it erodes.
the sky indigoing
above the parking lot
from Juan Ramón Jiménez (via Jack Kornfield):
who you are is not your body
we rent it
in the wind
rear view / limbed telephone pole / pushing a stroller
.— infinite deserts_ψ__ (@infinitedeserts) March 2, 2023
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