Tag Archives: art is lies

This Way and That

I’m not here to tell you just how the days must flow. They will flow as they will, as water down any grade; Not because it seeks a slope but because one is there. And the stream is dark in … Continue reading

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May, Clumsy as Always

May fumbled slowly Through another night last night Against dark, cold earth The first magnolia opened I know I heard silk tearing

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As It Ever Was

As children and as teenagers It was brother Robert could take Everything apart. Was also The one able to put it all Back together. Or, if needed, Make something new and workable From the pieces. Head bent, molars Grinding slow, you … Continue reading

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Until I Swept

I went looking for another Poem for you. I searched everywhere: In the tang of marshes open To the sea; in the billowing Clouds spread across a winter sky; In the neck of a blue heron, Curved, questioning water. I … Continue reading

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Against Hope

I look at the apple tree in spring And see how the blossoms fade and fall. I look again in summer and see How the fruit of its early promise Now bend thin branches under their weight. And in autumn … Continue reading

Posted in Apple Blossoms, Art is lies, Art is theft, Biology, Cliches, Delusional thinking, Epistemology, Evolution, Evolutionary Psychology, Hunger, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, Malnutrition, Neuroscience, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Political Commentary, Poverty, Protest poems, Religion, Science, Social Commentary, The Brain, Time | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Bartender’s Views

A shock of black hair combed back, thick, a bit oily. Heavy in the shoulders and chest, widening waist. The kinda fella always looks like he’s about Two minutes away from wearing a turtleneck. But born with a deformity, guess … Continue reading

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The Glasses and the Plates and the Silverware (poems from old notebooks [August? 1992])

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West Point, Once Upon a Time

An old brown dog of no particular breed Lay in the shade with his tongue hanging out. In a sprawl of poplar behind the barn A cat’s ears flattened, scolded by swallows. Late July, and the western capes crumbled In … Continue reading

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In the Spring Ditches

And now springtime comes Casting its green illusions As the south wind gasps The pussy willows waver In damn ditches already

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The Long Dark

The Long Dark* At night, on the lake, The ice becomes a steel drum Rapid, thready pulse Counterpoints a wolf’s tenor Saxophone wavering near *Everything is writing fodder. The Long Dark is a survival videogame set in the northern Canadian … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Creativity, Hinterland Studio, Hunger, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, Micropoetry, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Process, Tanka, Video games, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

When the Magnolia Stands in the Wind

When the sun comes up in the morning On some ragged green day in May The magnolia will open its blossoms, Plant its fragrance square in your way. You’ll stand there with your bare face hung out As you realize … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Biology, Chemistry, Death, Delusional thinking, Epistemology, Evolution, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, Magnolias, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Quatrains, Science, Skepticism, Spring, Time | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

While the Wind Tangles Your Hair

I want to sit with you in the shade While the wind tangles your hair Listening to you talk of things that exist Listening to you talk about the spectrum The spectrum on which things are portrayed The arbitrary nature … Continue reading

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Fieldstone Dislodged by A Plow

You’re tired and the world Tastes daily of death. Out here in the field The crows and gulls pry Into the furrows Crumbling behind you. You’re tired and the world Talks daily of death. Behind you the crows And gulls … Continue reading

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How often in March Counting the lengthening thaws Between ice and snow Do you listen for wild geese Straining against the moon’s weight?

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, Language, Micropoetry, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Spring, Tanka, The Moon, The Sky, Time, Tropes, Wild Geese, Wild Geese in Spring | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Face of Allah

I could not find the face of Allah In the debris of mountain slides, In blue fragments of mosaics, In the desolation of stars fallen behind The ground-down blade of the moon. I heard rumours he spoke in many voices … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Astronomy, Astrophysics, Atheism, Cosmology, Death, Desperation, Fanaticism, Islam, John MacKenzie, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Religion, Social Commentary, The Earth, The Moon, The Sea, The Sky, The Wind | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Serendipitous Collaboration

The image embedded lower in this post came to me courtesy of Matt Trussell, who lives beside a bog somewhere in Maine. I don’t know much more about him other than that he is quite pleasant in communication, likes baseball, … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Baseball, Collaboration, Fantasy Baseball, John MacKenzie, Matt Trussell, Poetry, Process, Red-winged blackbird, Serendipity, Spring | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

In Paris. The Portraits

I actually took a commission yesterday to write a poem for the birthday of a friend of a friend. It was a fun and interesting exercise. I worked mostly from a list sent to me of associations and interests of … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Cliches, Commissions, Creativity, John MacKenzie, Mythology, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Process, Summer, The Moon, The Sea, The Wind, Tide, Time, Venus | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Moon Turns Over and Over

I’m gone out walking in moonlight With yesterday’s dew in a flask To count all the stars above me. They’re the questions I’ve never asked. The moon turns over and over, It’s a coin I’ve tossed in the sky. But … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Cosmology, Country music, Country song, John MacKenzie, Language, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, The Moon, The Sky, Time | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Face the Table and Bend a Little Bit (a prostate exam villanelle)

The moving finger probes up where we shit. Listen: the doctor stretches, snaps his glove. Face the table and bend a little bit. Age can make all of our asses forfeit Their health to cancer’s greed. So we’ll speak of … Continue reading

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Restless Particles (a Hallowe’en sestina variation)

Near the bottom of the street a crow’s nest rests high in a linden. A loose stick tap- tap-taps in the wind that oboes its moan through October evening eaves. That wind wept rain all day into the nest and … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Autumn, Crows, Death, Epistemology, John MacKenzie, Lindens, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Sestina, The Rain, The Wind, Time, Tropes | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment