September 2011
20 posts
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Static Jane
Jelly jar from
somewhere upstate
circa 1978, weeps
onto the patio table that should be
outside, but is instead
inside
56 Jane Street.
Brown mouse surveys
the inventory, judging from
the spider-veined porcelain.
Cactus arm headlocks
the studio, a giant’s limb, or
a boa constrictor with
rows of teeth.
She shifts
only to lift
a pounds-heavy page.
I am Helen, I am Rapunzel:
don’t ask me to throw...
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The Love Cook
Let me cook you some dinner.
Sit down and take off your shoes
and socks and in fact the rest
of your clothes, have a dacquiri,
turn on some music and dance
around the house, inside and out,
it’s night and the neighbors
are sleeping, those dolts, and
the stars are burning bright,
and I’ve got the burners lit
for you, you hungry thing.
—Ron Padgett (2001)
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Time-Lapse Dream
Q: What would you like to do when you grow up?
A: Make things with my hands and watch them
crumble as one watches green fruit
rot on the branch. I want to catch
the thief who will soon steal
my teeth but the colors keep
changing, I close/open
once and I’m
a stranger in
a new scene.
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A New Refutation Of Time
Denying temporal succession, denying the self, denying the astronomical universe, are apparent desperations and secret consolations. Our destiny is not frightful by being unreal; it is frightful because it is irreversible and iron-clad. Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a...
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