I am the girl who eats alone, looking at you
from a distance. Look for bad-you will find
enough evil deeds. Some genetic trace
skipping generations: consider
my daughter.

Why would I pawn
my wedding ring, change the locks?
That is no idle threat.

What he is claiming is the opposite
of commonly accepted reality: cognitive
dissonance. And if I were inclined
towards political allegory, now
would be the time to make one.

Putting things down on paper
is the only way to understand.
Facts. Logic. Science into art.
When anyone asks how much my painting
costs, I say “three divorces!”

I intend to parcel up my belongings, a change
Being as good as a rest. My heart’s
in my eyes and if you touch them,
you’ll get a taste of infinity.

-Polly in the Blue Ridge (search phrase “dirty minds think alike”)

Conquer test anxiety by knowing
about half the people who take the test.

This method will be especially helpful if a hundred
words make up about half your vocabulary.

In the second half of the lesson
you will find out how many words you know.

Approximately half of the tests
in the second half of the lesson

test less than half of the half
of students who have studied

for less than half an hour. And still,
more than half will get it wrong.

Analogies are no longer part of the preparation
for the approximately half of the tests.

It’s no mystery how to do well on this test:
half the GRE is only the SAT.

A person with a highly developed vocabulary
will only know about half the story.

-Andrew in Ohio (search phrase “When Knowing the Vocab is Half the Test”)

More from Science Daily

Keep anything you find safe by having the right materials with you.
Know how to recognise a settlement.
Reject the path of the new motorway.

Most archaeologists are willing to risk to lose everything they personally own.

Uncover centuries-old graves.
Preserve the abundance of numerous bone artifacts lying in the path.
Discover lost treasures as you travel.

What years of anticipation and persistence had produced was accidentally discovered.

-Megan in NYC (“search phrase “an important archaeological find”)

1.
She the rusty swan
slinked around the walled city
always on the wrong side
of whatever side there was.

The portrait of a pin-up,
in shades of rose
a little starved, no longer

afraid of Patti Smith,
the Hindenburg disaster,
fast easy love, or some
comparable horrific accident.

I liked the way her face looked-
red-deemed feral-
How, as she moved to speak,
there was nothing but bonfires
wasted on air.

2.
Crash and burn
behavior became her
own style. Out of an envy
I can’t articulate exactly-

I gave her
home, to make it up to her
a bath, a quietly staged sunset,
a piano.

I followed her
right into the storm drain
to save her with my antidotes
for deployment. My ropes of sand.
Slouching towards Bethlehem
and stamping disapproval.

3.
How does this always happen to us?
These symptoms of eye,
these morbid fascinations?

You can’t see
a train wreck once it has burned.
View it here.
You can’t look away.

4.
“At least I know I’m a sinner,”
she shouted back,
“You ain’t gotta chance.”

-Caroline in Richmond (search phrase “kitten” + “trainwreck”)

I am a poor man and of little worth

Who is laboring to kill myself

And so I live in sin
I am no artist

Artists are guilty of such superficiality

Because they have no clue of what they are

I know that I am no Michelangelo.

There are no flames of love within my heart

But a bare cold hearthstone deep in ash

To think, I once wanted to carve an entire mountain into a Colossus

I know that I am no Michelangelo.

And I am not a painter (paint I did, of course)

I am not a prophet (this is no great matter)

I am not a theoretician (I am still learning)

I know that I am no Michelangelo.

Though I am not, nor will I consent to be obliged to tell

That I have no supernatural powers-

Neither divine strength nor divine wisdom

I am only a man called Michelangelo.

-Margaret in Richmond, VA (search phrase “I am no Michelangelo”)

Caught in a rock crevice, the leaves for a cover, a snowy lite has this day gone. They were here and there, but mostly the fog was everywhere. Chou had fairly poor eyesight, so even though some sunshine was seen when both children laughed, swinging and balancing on the amber surface, and watching the rings being set in the rolling hills and pastures of East TN, reflecting off of nearby Douglas Lake, the splendor of the Smoky Simon wrapped his tentacles around the Lady Erica’s fair head, flying around her. Erica laughed, a soft musical sound, on the dew moistened windows, sprinkles of salt spray leaving crystals on the panes, wind gusting like an energetic part of life.

Ben in Charlotte, NC (search phrase “sparkles of sunshine”)

The Nature of the Plague

It could be said

That there are plagues

That are unto death

And those not unto death.

Think back to Kerameikos,

Athens’ ancient cemetery.

Count the number of dead

Inspect the instruments

And medicines prepared

Read the proclamations

Issued by an itinerant physician

Interested in fevers

And the mysterious affinity

Between people who know

They are going to die.

-Editor (search phrase “the nature of the plague”)

Two ‘requests for poetry’ (RFP’s) that she points to:

Poems inspired by David Lynch’s Blue Velvet

The Asahi Haikuist Network

We recommend poegles for both.