Category Archives: verse and worse

to whom it may concern

It has come to my attention that the level of my age Is now set to fifty, with more movement on the gauge. Who authorized this increase? Who consented to the change? The alternative is worse, you say, but we’ve … Continue reading

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The Anachronist

In the year 1596, Anna is about to be burned at the stake. As the constable prepares to light the fire below her, she can do nothing but seek a solution in her own memory and imagination. The Anachronist is a game … Continue reading

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three ages

1. The sidewalk is significant. Its ridges hamper wheels, Its cracks harbor meadows And little things with wills. It is safe–the street, maleficent. It is hard–it doles out blows. 2. The sidewalk barely registers: Eyes on faces, signs, and lights. … Continue reading

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to a well traveled hidalgo

This will be hard to explain, so please lie Still and I’ll try to make it clear to you. It may have been a normal day; perhaps You were optimistic, out for a hunt. Something happened, though–a fall from the … Continue reading

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The House of Atreus: A Play

Agamemnon is like: I can’t believe we’re still stuck in this place. I am totally tired of waiting around for wind. I’m going to sacrifice my youngest kid to Artemis. Tell her it’s her wedding, she can marry that musclehead … Continue reading

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voices

(in St. Paul, Minn.) Why does the owl, her nest turned into flames By an errant fire balloon, shriek as she flees? As the solo goose flaps his steady beat, Sea-bound, whom does he think will hear his honk? An … Continue reading

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signal

Eight with twenty-one zeros. That’s how many Letters and numbers, dots, jots, tittles and clicks Our chatty species sent around this year– More than in a score of generations past. Into that wind-whipped Sonoran, I cast These sixty grains, these … Continue reading

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nostalgia for now

Even in Kyoto hearing a cuckoo Basho missed Kyoto Basho missed Kyoto which is just a word to me but I hear Basho I hear Basho when the rain beats the windshield and I miss the rain In driving rain, … Continue reading

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To Future Generations

A poem for the summer of Ferguson, Gaza, ISIS, and Ukraine: Bertolt Brecht’s An die Nachgeborenen (1939), in my translation from the very simple and direct German. I Truly I live in dark times! A sincere word is folly. A … Continue reading

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found poetry

This may sound like Basho, but it’s actually from Tripadvisor, describing the Dilek National Park in western Turkey: Purest beach. Comfort of pine tree’s shadow. Wild pigs around of you and asking meal. Peaceful please in every season Not so … Continue reading

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