Poetry

“Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.” – Carl Sandburg

Scattered Elegy/Eulogy for Philip Whalen

To zap the demons of attachment you told your premature mourners to place your corpse on a table strewn with frozen raspberries * Today is July 18, 2002, and the last time I sat in Boulder was summer 1975– you arrived, and I was reading your novels & poems and saw no more need to […]

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Ship of State

in barbecue smoke making chin music– madras warrior, what do you think? do you find yourself elsewhere? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Last night in my astro recliner, a lawyer highliting certain ossia pons asinorum portions of writ to enlarge for a […]

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On What is Proper

One should enjoy flowers in the company of beauties, get drunk under the moon in the company of charming friends, and enjoy the flight of snow in the company of high-minded scholars. –apocryphal, Chinese Born, bored by conflict taught by degrees to believe we must contend, find some purchase, gain the edge, you put on […]

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In the Rut

At six a.m., I learned the sun god had traded his golden chariot for a pale green corduroy chair. It was a lazy kind of light that coated the mountain. A light that implied comfort and “just another day,” rather than grandeur and the chokecherries swallowed the indignity. The fir tree, cold and thirsty, narrowed […]

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When We Play Hangman: A Poem

when
we play hang man,
i like to pick words
that start and end with x

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The Zeinhom Morgue: A Poem

Cairo to Luxor. Islam’s biggest feasting hour.

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i’ve got logic class

cxk             ive got logic class ,cmxlo     [ sez   old dawg ]    o             sez  old dawg old  ?????            ?          ????  ::_::)864]4 ssubmitted by jim mc curry at carl sandburg college / jmccurry@sandburg.edu       butttttt                                      but               but             /    so whut?          =        _    but_         ___  `         ________________            like,     […]

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Moxie

First of all, I like this [says my email pen pal, K And I tend to I agree]: I guess I’m beginning to accept the idea of trimming down my voices to the ones I like, and I guess I’m beginning to accept the idea of trimming down my voices to the ones I like, […]

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Wit: A Poem

[there’s] something to be said … not much, for the idea that everyone ought to commit suicide once in a while Hayden Carruth Listen to the hiss ­ zigzag aggressions, depression, graphs ­ while calmer heads ­ shake their souls — stirred in sadness do the best they can? Who wanted to be the kid […]

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Slightly Retarded Bagboy Asking Out Checkout Girl

After she says "sorry, no" to "arcade games and ice cream cones," she only wishes he was smart enough to know how he’s hurting himself by asking out someone with early acceptance to Princeton– how her heart breaks, too, in realizing honesty isn’t proportionate to intelligence as she lies about the boyfriend driving up from […]

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5:00 a.m.

I’m building a house, but until it’s done I ain’t got no place to sleep…

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Show, Don’t Tell

Americans are like two-year olds—
dazzled—
by bright pictures
of apples, dollars, guns, cars,
breasts and testicles.

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The Poetry of Joe Bolton

Joe Bolton was born in 1961 in Cadiz, Kentucky. In 1990, shortly after completing his master’s thesis, he commited suicide. It is estimated that Bolton wrote nearly 500 poems in the 80’s, most of them while attending writing programs at Western Kentucky University, the University of Florida, and the University of Arizona. He published three […]

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Virginia Hamilton Adair

“Anybody that could write a serious poem on the three blind mice … I just love it.”

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Driving Home From Mother’s House: A Poem

As I drove through the bower
of old oak trees
scanning 68th and 20th avenues northeast
I was scared by the moon.

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