Tonight, I have discovered a gap in the poetic imagination of the English language. Children in the United States and United Kingdom are taught that poetry often uses analogy, a form of metaphor that likens one thing to another thing.
My love is like a boiled carrot…
But what’s the opposite of an analogy? [...]
When I was at the national protest against massive unconstitutional surveillance two days ago, organizers were handing out a piece of paper titled “CHANT SHEET.” These were the chants we were supposed to practice and use during the march:
They say wire tap / We say fight back You say land of the free? I [...]
The following is a poem written by a 6th grade student in 1962. I found it yesterday in a stack of papers left behind in a garage by a teacher, who died decades ago.
Oh, to be an atom Having so much power. Why, when a single neutron hits me Boom! How the people cower!
Having a cat with a long hair is great for taking a tuft that has settled on the porch and blowing it back up from the palm of the hand to drift, showing the currents of air before settling back down in the same place again.
I’m just a poor boy Nobody loves me You’re not a poor boy Stow the gun, grumpy Eat your sandwich, take a nap and you’ll feel much better
Against the blinding white of the blizzard The white birches seem a sickly yellow The black-backed gull overhead seems blue And every young man out there Struggling to clear his driveway Shows up dark against the background
The other day as I was waiting with my kohlrabi to check out of the grocery line, I came across this colorful front-page headline in The Sun:
Exactly what about Nostradamus’ prophecies for Summer 2012 is forbidden?
Is Nostradamus himself forbidden? Well, golly, it’s not like he’s going to move anywhere, being dead and [...]
One meditation technique calls for the practitioner to recite a phrase with relaxing associations as a kind of personal mantra, in rhythm with a slow pace of breathing. The mantra is thought or softly spoken during an exhalation that lasts for the duration of 5 heartbeats.
A phrase that I’ve tried with this technique is: [...]
The pursuit of death is the scent that brings this bee hungry to the bloom.
Have you heard the sound of one President’s silence while quiet eyes watch?
A leaf underground, tart with toxic defenses, blooms white in the sun.