Poetic justice /
An artichoke:
The most poetic
thing that you can
choke on.
If they keep you up at night /
In cities,
every siren
means someone
got a chance
to stay
unharmed.
(P.S. In case you were wondering, nobody was choked in the making of these two completely unrelated bits of verse.)
@verse
An artichoke:
The most poetic
thing that you can
choke on.
If they keep you up at night /
In cities,
every siren
means someone
got a chance
to stay
unharmed.
(P.S. In case you were wondering, nobody was choked in the making of these two completely unrelated bits of verse.)
@verse
Voices of War /
What wicked times:
the voice of Paddington
concedes his country’s loss
of infrastructure, lives,
instead of making fun
of some imaginary robber
loose in London’s streets.
A sharp turn in the fairy tale –
and winter’s coming:
nudity, offensive language,
violence (extreme),
abuse of substances
(think: gas, oil, blood) –
it could be rated “W” for War,
but where’s the agency
to keep those aged
between a minute and a lifetime
from the screening?
@verse
What wicked times:
the voice of Paddington
concedes his country’s loss
of infrastructure, lives,
instead of making fun
of some imaginary robber
loose in London’s streets.
A sharp turn in the fairy tale –
and winter’s coming:
nudity, offensive language,
violence (extreme),
abuse of substances
(think: gas, oil, blood) –
it could be rated “W” for War,
but where’s the agency
to keep those aged
between a minute and a lifetime
from the screening?
@verse
Merry indeed /
What bliss it would have been
to know we’ve already been saved,
and all that’s left
is celebrating the occasion:
to “deck our halls with boughs”
and fill our malls
with endless variations
on the same ten songs;
to know the things that mattered
happened in the past:
the vast expanse of universe ahead –
a pool ball, rolling to a halt.
The eight is pocketed,
the shots all taken,
nothing left to call.
@verse
What bliss it would have been
to know we’ve already been saved,
and all that’s left
is celebrating the occasion:
to “deck our halls with boughs”
and fill our malls
with endless variations
on the same ten songs;
to know the things that mattered
happened in the past:
the vast expanse of universe ahead –
a pool ball, rolling to a halt.
The eight is pocketed,
the shots all taken,
nothing left to call.
@verse
Happy New Year from Kobayashi Issa. Although his new year would’ve started about a month later.
@verse
@verse
Tearing off the calendar page /
What’s a month to a year?
Less than a toe,
Less than a finger,
More than a tooth.
@verse
What’s a month to a year?
Less than a toe,
Less than a finger,
More than a tooth.
@verse
More of you /
It may be well that we don't have
a daughter – else my heart
could burst from seeing you,
condensed in a new being,
not entirely repeated –
but carried forward
with a tint of me
(some waviness of hair?
of somewhat lighter black?)
I don't think I could know
how to react without dissolving,
how to hold this in my arms
without imploding from the power
of another such existence.
MR @verse
It may be well that we don't have
a daughter – else my heart
could burst from seeing you,
condensed in a new being,
not entirely repeated –
but carried forward
with a tint of me
(some waviness of hair?
of somewhat lighter black?)
I don't think I could know
how to react without dissolving,
how to hold this in my arms
without imploding from the power
of another such existence.
MR @verse
Came up with this format for mike_ravdonikas on Instagram.
Tearing off another page /
Here’s to another month
Of languid, peaceful winter,
Only rarely windy,
Only slightly cool.
@verse
Here’s to another month
Of languid, peaceful winter,
Only rarely windy,
Only slightly cool.
@verse
A Cummings nocturne /
The night guards
disappear into the
darkness noise of their
devices scraps of football
voice a family with far-
away child or a gently dog
sounds village life
an ocean miles ago
Palms bitterly bright
outside the office building –
2AM white streetlight
A beached taxi
driver next to tire
phone lighting face:
pale cigarettes of this today
MR @verse
The night guards
disappear into the
darkness noise of their
devices scraps of football
voice a family with far-
away child or a gently dog
sounds village life
an ocean miles ago
Palms bitterly bright
outside the office building –
2AM white streetlight
A beached taxi
driver next to tire
phone lighting face:
pale cigarettes of this today
MR @verse
My life as a rat /
Yes, every city is a cage
of streets, seen from above,
but also – of your habits:
Paths you take (or don't),
cafes you frequent,
squares you pass
on your way home,
to work, to dance
on Friday night,
and restaurants
you might have dined at,
had they not been closed.
Oh, yes. A dozen roads
and fifteen hundred extras
would be enough
to film your whole
damn life on set –
and yet you need
a million people
to feel thoroughly alone?
Ten thousand destinations
to pretend you're cornered?
Five hundred thousand
square kilometers to stay
away from land in towers,
way above the 40th floor –
Ah, yes. A Universe,
to know: it's there,
outside the door.
MR @verse
Yes, every city is a cage
of streets, seen from above,
but also – of your habits:
Paths you take (or don't),
cafes you frequent,
squares you pass
on your way home,
to work, to dance
on Friday night,
and restaurants
you might have dined at,
had they not been closed.
Oh, yes. A dozen roads
and fifteen hundred extras
would be enough
to film your whole
damn life on set –
and yet you need
a million people
to feel thoroughly alone?
Ten thousand destinations
to pretend you're cornered?
Five hundred thousand
square kilometers to stay
away from land in towers,
way above the 40th floor –
Ah, yes. A Universe,
to know: it's there,
outside the door.
MR @verse
Off the Books /
God isn't a medication,
to take like the doctor said.
God doesn't have Terms of Use,
he's not in the fine print.
You know God in your heart —
yet let others explain
what God is, what God does,
what he wants you to do.
And when you believe them
they happily call it 'belief'.
MR @verse
God isn't a medication,
to take like the doctor said.
God doesn't have Terms of Use,
he's not in the fine print.
You know God in your heart —
yet let others explain
what God is, what God does,
what he wants you to do.
And when you believe them
they happily call it 'belief'.
MR @verse
Gravity /
A red balloon,
almost exhausted,
creeps along the wall
like a lost pet.
Oh, how you soared,
you poor thing!
Did you think
the Earth forgets?
@verse by MR
(Now also in pictures)
A red balloon,
almost exhausted,
creeps along the wall
like a lost pet.
Oh, how you soared,
you poor thing!
Did you think
the Earth forgets?
@verse by MR
(Now also in pictures)