Category: 50 @ 25
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050: La Fin du Monde
Read the world’s ending in a book again today and I laughed not out of disrespect but determination to laugh I’ve determined laughter helps us finish strong. It’s not the first book today printed whose themes feature the end of the world it’s a popular transition from fantasy to science fiction to move from eschatology…
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049: Por Que?
because my highschool taught Español Vaminos! not Latin Via Ovid because of the blood in the water because no one remembers the Alamo, nor cares, nor, perhaps, ever cared because Texas wants to secede — we should let them and because we should take Puerto Rico in their place because of the Three Amigos because…
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048: Birthday Event Horizons
“Micah’s how old? …He can’t be that old.” isn’t a statement about a shift in age, but rather a shift in perspective. For the speaker in question remains the same age: “Theirs” and assumes that others will remain the same age: the age that others maintained in relation to “Theirs.” How ever Like the half-plus-seven…
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047: Things to Bring Tonight
burlap sack. guns (those pistols and the shotgun). stuff for making bruises. chair. shop lamps. crappy rope. a sharp kitchen knife. dry ice… chocolate syrup. a generator. the script. your camera. the director’s chair. oh, and fedoras. Lots of fedoras and overcoats. }{ For newcomers — a note on 50 @ 25: Once upon a…
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045: A New Era
My birthday the end of an era of poetry …again. era: a long and distinct period of history with a particular feature or characteristic Mid 17th cent from late Latin plural of aes as in aer— for “money, counter” AND DON’T YA KNOW wouldn’t ya know it didn’t you see it coming?…
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044: The Lavender, The Milk, and The Turf they Share
Two hemispheres of lavender purple parentheses two currents of clover blooms clockwise cranking, head after tail after head royal field around the base of a bulb globe Dogwood crosssections up, down, right, left, tangledrootedin green below and between buffer of fertility Dogwood smells like the clover’s type clover erect like the Dogwood’s type bent…
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042: On the Righteous and Unrighteous Alike
Three hawks I saw & a crow on a day when the rain drizzled down from the shroud overcast on our hills, wings in spray, wings (brown tops, white bottoms, farmers’s tans) weighed with water or now dripping, dripping inken-black, now flinging ringlets of rain as they dove into blades of the green (also wet)…
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041: Incognito
Don’t want the fame or the fortune, just want to die great. Don’t want to make it rain, Don’t want you to remember my name, just want to meet my fate. Don’t want shelter from poverty, Don’t want to be a celebrity, Don’t want the press to acknowledge me, just want my tale to run…
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040: Why We Will Never Make Artificial Intelligence
Watch me work: I’m going to make a statue from created things. See there? Made it. I’m going to make three statues out of clay marble steel. See there? Made it. I’m going to make a statue of an older me making three statues of clay marble steel. See there? Made it. I’m going to…
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038: [title redacted]
This isn’t a poem, it’s a regular post. Sometimes when you write, you end up writing so honestly that your words are too inflammatory, personal, or polemical to share. It’s not like you lied and got embarrassed about the lie. Rather, the thoughts and words are too fresh, too new, too immature — in the…
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037: ランスロットの探求 (a heroic haiku)
in humble deference to my friends in Osaka who speak the language better Lance yawns bed of leaves nuzzling dreams: Go. (cold air waking) enters in foreign woods blooming blooms too: hot, high, hardy. takes light. gets “Go,” harvest of Goes brimming costs cuts: cold air comes, steals Goes. back again: bed of blooms waking…