Tag Archives: Language

The Writing on the Wall

Looking for a virgin, Who you gonna call? What god’s got the virginest Virgins of all? You can find his number On the bathroom wall— The pimpest pimp in Pimptown— For a good time, call Allah.  

Posted in Allah, Art is theft, Delusional thinking, Islam, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, Language, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Protest poems, Religion, Social Commentary, Theology | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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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

February Haiku

Snow piled to the eaves— now who complains we don’t live amidst abundance?

Posted in Aphorephemera, Haiku, John MacKenzie, Language, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Atheism, Biology, Cliches, Death, Epistemology, Gender, John MacKenzie, Language, Medicine, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Prostate exam, Science, Social Commentary, Tropes, Villanelle | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Why

Because this and that sperm and egg happened to be reasonably compatible, and the gestation period passed without major complications, and our conditions at birth allowed each of us to continue breathing. Because of random mishaps avoided or not through … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Consciousness, Creativity, Epistemology, Evolution, John MacKenzie, Language, Memory, Neuroscience, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetics, Poetry, Process, Science, The Brain, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Behind the Dance of Moon

Maybe tonight you will hear how the stars whisper behind the dance of moon tangling seaweed

Posted in Astrophysics, Cinquain, Cosmology, Gravity, John MacKenzie, Language, Micropoetry, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Science, Summer, The Moon, Tide, Time | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Another Night Done

Weaving home through crowds— another night done in this bagsticker July below clouds like torn, piss-stained sheets under the turnt up moon

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, John MacKenzie, Language, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Summer, Tanka, The Moon, The Sky | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment