Posts tagged “Poetry”

This is how to build

A Visit Gone are the days when you could walk on water. When you could walk. The days are gone. Only one day remains, the one you’re in. The memory is no friend. It can only tell you what you no longer have: a left hand you can use, two feet that walk. All the […]

A poem

A Few Words on the Soul by Wislawa Szymborska We have a soul at times. No one’s got it non-stop, for keeps. Day after day, year after year may pass without it. Sometimes it will settle for awhile only in childhood’s fears and raptures. Sometimes only in astonishment that we are old. It rarely lends […]


Dreams from the Malaria Pills (Turner) Forward Operating Base Eagle, Iraq This time it’s beautiful. He’s in the kelp beds somewhere off the California coast, floating where green leaves touch the sun, as if he’s disentangled from thought itself, as if the mind has come this far, up from the depths to release him to […]

Last call

Body Bags by Brian Turner A murder of crows looks on in silence from the eucalyptus trees above as we stand over the bodies — who look as if they might roll over, wake from a dream and question us about the blood drying on their scalps, the bullets lodged in the back of their […]

How to make an awesome poster

Several months ago, my aunt asked me a bunch of questions about climate change. I answered her here in a serious of carefully researched posts, many of which took me hours to write. Her answer? “You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to” with a link to an abc news story insinuating that snow in winter means […]


Water/Zero After the garden, the man and woman squatted in a field of thorns. See, they had become like us, although they didn’t know it yet, knowing good and evil, which meant also a whole bestiary of pain, which was new to them, and so in the infancy of their wanting thirst and hunger, famine […]

You accept it as part of yourself or go mad

crip non haiku by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha he says you didn’t seem like yourself that day i say this is my self crunching my forehead to stay in the palace of words lamaaze breathing through pain spikes asking for a vicodin with a shaking hand