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Creatures Whose Backsides Glow

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I’ve already sunk to scribbling
one line
at the top of the page.

Capturing ideas-
fireflies- in canning jars
on muggy Midwest summers night.
Desperate for the magic of creatures whose backsides glow-
headlamps leading us
forward
backward
in on ourselves.
Lighting the inside of the tree house of my mind
(like Miss Suzy with her acorn bowls and fire fly lanterns)

both of us rebuilding
what the scoundrels set asunder.

Sue Zalokar
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Written by lickmypoetry

September 18, 2010 at 8:06 pm

Home (less)

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Home(less)

We smoke.

Nighttime.

Bridge line.

A man sleeping in the doorway offers his opinion
I listen carefully
He has only the truth to say
I go home to shelter
He wrestles cardboard on concrete
All meaning seems to splinter
The deep end always lingers.

by Israel Bayer

Written by lickmypoetry

April 25, 2010 at 10:17 am

Posted in Uncategorized

A new world— one that doesn’t need National Poetry Month

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Is poetry dead in America? No, probably not. But you wouldn’t know that from the overhyped, mass produced public relations campaigns coming from places like the Poetry Foundation, and Poets.org— who rev their engine’s every April in hopes of offering an appeal for American poets who for most part have little to no effect on American society.

In 2008, esteemed poet and writer, Ange Mlinko wrote an excellent insiders look at what is behind National Poetry Month in the Nation.

In the article Mlinko writes, “De rigueur jokes about T.S. Eliot’s “cruelest month” notwithstanding, the National Poetry Month FAQ web page explains why April was chosen for the honor: “February is Black History Month and March is Women’s History Month, so April seemed a logical choice.” Let’s get this straight: logically, this would mean that poets are an oppressed group on a par with groups who have overcome the legal status of chattel. Needless to say, the ability of poets to interrogate their own earnest metaphors seems to have plunged in tandem with their prestige.

If, that is, one assumes that poetry’s prestige has plunged, because otherwise it wouldn’t need a national awareness campaign. But how does one square this lost prestige, this alarum, with the surge of new books every year? Or all the readings, podcasts, MFA graduates? A major publishing house’s poetry list used to function as a highbrow loss leader; but now that books are just another loss leader for big-box retail outlets, poetry–a loss leader of a loss leader–counterintuitively becomes the rallying point of a grassroots movement. Dozens if not hundreds of small presses and websites have sprung up in recent years…” Read the rest of this entry »

Written by lickmypoetry

April 3, 2010 at 5:02 pm

Scales Stick to My Skin— A series of haiku

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by Cassandra Koslen

I smell like low tide
barnacles grow in my bath
a fishmonger’s life

perished halibut
we will fillet your carcass
overgrown flounder

seafood dead or live
I prefer your company
to the customers’

the cold chaps my hands
wet, amuck with fishes guts
I need a new job

Posted by Israel Bayer

Written by lickmypoetry

April 1, 2010 at 4:52 pm

A Little Shel is good for what ails ya

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If you ever wandered to the end of the sidewalk you know where this guy is coming from.

Read and learn more about Shel Silverstein here.

Posted by Brian Feist

Written by lickmypoetry

March 26, 2010 at 6:54 pm

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