keep smiling
quote: jeremy corbyn
You don’t have to measure everything by the ability of the super rich to buy Rolex watches.
pirate poem
When love first whistled its way o’er my yardarm
I didn’t shiver me timbers
or fall overboard.
I found a port
in a storm
in a teacup.
And for love of jolly rogering
I waved goodbye to my wooden ship
and the endless sky it sailed upon.
And I dropped my anchor here,
in a salty tear
in a pirate’s eye.
eagles are awesome
Another minor classic from a decade or so ago.
The Official Account:
“The IYI crew visited Alton, Illinois to interview Brett Stawar of the Alton Tourism Bureau.Alejandro Cruz, the videographer, had technical difficulties with his wireless mic set, and couldn’t capture any of Aileesha Breedlove’s interview questions. This is what we did to salvage the segment.Ryan Wiggins wrote approximately 90% of the lyrics based on rough edits, and performed the resulting vocal arrangement.”
The Unofficial Account:
“Yeah, right!”
quote: vienna teng
Let your faith die.
Bring your wonder.
Yes, you are only one.
No, it is not enough
But if you lift your eyes,
I am your brother.
storm surge
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (26)
yet I suppose it could be worse
the tidal pull and push
leaves me stranded
among the dune’s desolation
or drowning beneath the wave’s
cold pulse
so I take my meds
for ten years each morning
without fail I perform my Eucharist
without wine or blood or flesh
just chemicals I’m told will save me
from the rising tide
(February 12, 2020)
seven sisters
hit
She hit him
She hit him
Mummy hit him
She hit him in the face
And in the kitchen
And in the supermarket
She hit him just in case
And when he grew
He hit you
It was all he knew
carl sagan: pale blue dot
This version courtesy of Complex Realities
probably a poem about sex
I was a sail
or
buoy
a vessel for you
were a flower
child.
I was a farmer’s hand
on virgin land
with no plough to till your earth
ly ways
con
sensually wild.
So soon beneath the tell-tale tiles
of our riff-raff roof
where the fur black cat
ran back
to where we started.
Portes slammed and fenêtre failed
until legs were all that parted.
I was a basket case
a host for you
to be a missionary
in every place
except position.
And between your thighs
your holy ghost
touched every nebula of life
but not the universe of my religion.
And so beneath the chim-chiminey che-roo
where our fur black cat
once sat with you
the faces in your mirror on the wall still stare
and I huddle like a child
in the corner
on the chair
as I watch them grin
from the scrim.
Like a lonely leper
I let them in.
juke of flow 