Poetry

  • The Robert Frost Kickball Club Paid Member

    In my soul grows a small soul. In my small soul, one smaller. Infinite repetition, nonstop loop. Each beanstalk is an endophyte. Inside my teeth lie small baby teeth. Inside those, infinitesimal baby teeth. I reject each grim oath whispered by gypsies in Western Mass. I fumigate rotting futons. If he were still akickin' I'd kick Robert Frost's ass in kickball. I'd pop the ball, restitch it with shards of marble. I'd talk shit + run up the motherfuckin' score. The game within the game. I hereby donate my bargain-bin Kama Sutra handbook to a humanoid giraffe named Koan. Koan rocks black  glasses and a Kangol. More »
  • Turning Madness into Flowers Paid Member

    If my sorrow were deeperI'd be, along with you, underthe ocean's floor;but today I learn that the oilthat pools beneath the ocean flooris essenceresidueremainsof all ourrelationsallour ancestors who have died and turned to oilwithout our witnesseons ago.We've always belonged to them.Speaking for you, hanging, weeping, over the water's edgeas well as for myself.It is our griefheavy, relentless,trudgingus, however resistant,to the decaying and rottenbottom of things:our grief bringingus home. Alice Walker is a poet, activist, essayist, and Pulitzer Prize–winning novelist. More »
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    Kensho Down on Texas Avenue, El Paso, Texas Paid Member

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    McDonald's™ Paid Member

     The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences.—Seng-T'san, the 3rd Patriarch I got a Zen friend eats vegetarian at MacDonald's sometimes. He likes the cheap coffee. He says, "Don't be a snob, Bobby. What difference does it make?" And he gives me a wise Buddhist smile. More »
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    San Francisco Boom Paid Member

    Buzz saws cacophonous mega-hums on west side avenues. Beloveds and I are safe for complicated reasons. Sky beyond our deck still reminds me of late-day Arles. All around. Beyond. Dying in creatively vicious ways.   The screwed out here one kind of huge lewd ringing rising on a bright, dry afternoon.   Barbara Berman is the senior poetry reviewer for The Daily Rumpus. She has work forthcoming in 99 Poems for the 99 Percent, out July from 99:The Press. Image: Amani Willett/Gallery Stock More »
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    “Massacre” Paid Member