Replay, replay, the Fourth of May
When a set of twins did a lot
I can think of no reason
Why the Force sensitive season
Should ever be forgot
May 4, 2024
From “Replay, Replay, the Fourth of May” by Anonymous
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April 30, 2024
April 29, 2024
From “Killdeer Killhere” by Anonymous
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April 28, 2024
From “Grateful” by Anonymous
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April 27, 2024
From “Price Cutting” by Anonymous
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Everywhere we walk at the art fair
Our first purchase in hand
People stop to admire it
The inlaid, geometric perfection
Of a cutting board assembled like
The lobby floor of a Jazz Age hotel
We tell them over and over
Where the artist’s booth is
Urging them to go, to buy
But that light leaves their eyes a bit
When we mention the $150 price tag
When I asked the artist how long
Each piece took, he told me a month
I want to look the others straight
In the eye and say, as if agreeing
“Yes, $150 is highway robbery,
he is selling himself far too short”
I don’t know what I would charge
For a month of my life
But it would be more than that
If I could find a buyer
April 26, 2024
From “There’s No Fighting in Papercraft” by Anonymous
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Brightly colored native birds, all in a row
Intricate papercraft all, politely perched
And made of end-on paper folded and glued
Stunning bit of paper art, still envelope-able
But even as I admire it, I know
They would never pose that well together
Robin, cardinal, bluebird, goldfinch, hummer
They would fight
Oh, how they would fight
April 25, 2024
From “Bramble Margin” by Anonymous
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April 24, 2024
From “The Boot Returns” by Anonymous
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It lays there, solid steel warmed by midday asphalt
A holy ring of solid steel, malefactor gripped tight
The short claw of the law, flight an impossibility
It feels like there should be some empathy
For the poor stranded vehicle, chained unwillingly
But seeing the bleached-tooth gleam of that SUV
Its fraternity parking pass flaunted on the dash
Out of state Texas plates loud, proud
Knowing that this may be the one, the only
Situation they can’t weasel out of
In their young lives lived on cruise control
The only response is a smug smile
And a “give ’em hell, meter maid.”
April 23, 2024
April 22, 2024
From “Complimenting an Angry Young Man” by Anonymous
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The editor, a student like myself
Though an upperclassman, said that
It was the best writing sample he’d
Ever seen, that he had no notes that
He’d like to publish it immediately
Take me on as a columnist at once
Get me twelve dollars apiece
I utterly repudiate a lot of the
Things I said in those columns, a
Younger, angrier me wrote in haste
I now know I was both blinder and blindee
Unable to see and so depriving others
Of sight, as so many young men like me
Are wont to do as their first instinct
But still, I think back often to that
Crowded office in the basement of an
Ugly building because it was, and may
Still me the nicest thing anyone has
Ever said to me