Tag Archives: Poetry

Randomness Follows

This wild-looking mechanical contraption is a typewriter. It was designed in 1867 and then patented in 1870. For the time, the Malling Hansen Writing Ball was a technological marvel and years ahead of its time. The unique functionality of this … Continue reading

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Insomnia

Insomnia All over the world people can’t sleep. In different times zones they’re lying awake Bodies still, minds trudging along like child laborers. They worry about bills, they worry whether the shoes they just bought are really too small. One’s … Continue reading

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And so much satisfaction when a train goes by.

Living at the End of Time –Robert Bly There is so much sweetness in children’s voices, And so much discontent at the end of day, And so much satisfaction when a train goes by. I don’t know why the rooster … Continue reading

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Winter mornings are made of steel

Winter mornings are made of steel; they have a metallic taste and sharp edges. On a Wednesday in January, at seven in the morning, it’s plain to see that the world was not made for Man, and definitely not for … Continue reading

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The price of popularity

The Shore by Rob A. Mackenzie It’s why the tourists arrive and why Time Out called Leith “one of the world’s coolest neighbourhoods”; why the sky is permanently blue and the sun flaunts the burnished stonework; why a red light area … Continue reading

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Running Into A New Year

Running Into A New Year I am running into a new year and the old years blow back like a wind that I catch in my hair like strong fingers like all my old promises and it will be hard … Continue reading

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Hymn to Time

HYMN TO TIME by Ursula K. Le Guin Time says “Let there be” every moment and instantly there is space and the radiance of each bright galaxy. And eyes beholding radiance. And the gnats’ flickering dance. And the seas’ expanse. … Continue reading

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We shall by morning Inherit the earth

MUSHROOMS by Sylvia Plath Overnight, very Whitely, discreetly, Very quietly Our toes, our noses Take hold on the loam, Acquire the air. Nobody sees us, Stops us, betrays us; The small grains make room. Soft fists insist on Heaving the … Continue reading

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Still Autumn

Autumn – Jane Hirshfield Again the wind flakes gold-leaf from the trees and the painting darkens— as if a thousand penitents kissed an icon till it thinned back to bare wood, without diminishment.  

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When the knock comes, it will be long ago.

THE FALL OF VARIA D. Nurkse The tanks from the Past rolled in this morning. Our neighbors crowded the curbs to cheer though only yesterday, they were snitching: A has prior tendencies, B has backward dreams… Already the old flag … Continue reading

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