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In the New Century I Gave You My Name
As time goes on, new and remoter aspects of truth are discovered which can seldom be fitted into creeds that are changeless. ~ Clarence Day
Poems
A History of Manic Depression I
by Raul Alvarez
For God so loved the world he drove it straight into a brick wall, and the world folded around him, and the world removed thirty percent of the flesh from his face, and the world broke three of his ribs, and the world was on fire, and the world was pried open by a host of angels, and the world was sprayed with chemicals and water, and the world was placed on the back of a large tow truck, and the world was evaluated by an insurance agent, and the w
When I Had Died
The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people. ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.
Poems
Techno-Origami
by Haji Khavaritranslated from the Persian by Roger Sedarat<.sup>
The 3-D printer
worked overtime
sculpting lemon trees
complete with bees
on budding flowers.
The overheated machine
filled the cardboard orchard
with the scent of hot plastic.
The 12th nightingale arrived
like a prophet
in a cloud of smoke,
considering the same hand
that pushed “print”
remained destined to strike
a single match
and wave goodbye
to a paradise
of paper.
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Broken Iggy
On Monday morning Guppy broke his leg. We had just come home from a walk and there was a squirrel in the yard so I let him off his leash. He chased the squirrel up a tree that is quite slanted and he got up too high and when he came down I heard the Iggy Death Scream - trust me, it is not something anyone wants to hear. My initial thought was maybe he ripped a toenail off or something but as soon as I looked at him, I knew - trust me, that is not something anyone wants to see. Fortunately, it was not a compound fracture. We got him right in to see his vet and my worst nightmare was confirmed. For those that are not familiar with Italian
Transfiguration Between the Graves
"She is a friend of my mind... The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order." ~ Toni Morrison
Poems
The Iron Lung
by Stanley Plumly
So this is the dust that passes through porcelain,
so this is the unwashed glass left over from supper,
so this is the dust in the attic, in August,
and this is the down on the breath of the sleeper . . . .
If we could fold our arms, but we can’t.
If we could cross our legs, but we can’t.
If we could put the mind to rest . . . .
But our fathers have put this task before us.
I can neither move nor rise.
The neighborhood is gathering, and now
my father i
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