Monday Poem

lpl竞猜官网Ostinato first their concerted honks— unseen, …………then as apparitions they rise from foliage at the foot of the hill framed in a window sash they rise to the cackles of crows already at breakfast in our yard arrayed upon green, black notes of an almost endless chord, ostinato of the articulated sounds of vees that…

Monday Poem

lpl竞猜官网Socrates said to Glaucon,”The things we think we know are like shadows cast by a  distant light on the walls of a cave  of things unseen we do not know.” The Thin Skin of Our Conceits —For L. who couldn’t find the balloon she’d saved in remembrance of a cousin of her childhood You called last night…

Monday Poem

“Time is a static in the mind.”—Malachi Black, poet Timesea In the days when there were bona fide summers when months were loyal to the expected, when they stayed more or less within their lanes, December not copping the joys of July, for instance, when seasons honored tradition and did not insist on mukluks in…

Monday Poem

I look at my grandchildren and know that, being so young, they have little serious understaning of Covid and wonder what parts of it they’ll recall. Or will it linger…? How vague a memory will it be. What sort of meaning will it have, one like mine of world war? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Meaning of the…

Monday Poem

Like The Old Harry ….. –for my father, Jim My father was an opaque poet of blue collar verse who’d sling odd terms from the corner of his mouth opposite the one holding the lip-gripped cigarette issuing curlicues of smoke which circled his cocked head his eyes squinting from their sting his playful gags filled earcups from which I, with…

Monday Poem

“The writer [Lorca] died while mixing with the rebels, these are natural accidents of war . . .” —Spanish Dictator Francisco Franco. “The country has to toughen up … part of the problem …is nobody wants to hurt each other anymore, right?” — US president, Donald Trump Last Day of Federíco García Lorca Federico, in…

Monday Poem

Galleon the complexity of your crossed purposes beauty and war, grace and wastefulness, you rest solidly at sea upon a liquid without yet dropping through, a steel log with algorithmic spurs hollow inside of rust and rot, a contradiction, weighty, weightless, floating divine swan human pawns Jesus weeps Mars is gloating . Jim Culleny 2/15/20…

Monday Poem

lpl竞猜官网Begin flames are the feathers of this bird but I’m not calling the fire brigade —life burns life this is a particular bird whose flame is multitudinous red with flamboyant nuance: high-frequency colorwheels thrown in and well-played purple notes of a bass line in its wings —but “multitudinous” fails to tell the tale of this…