The state of East Bay poetry

The room’s quiet focus is fixed on her hushed, commanding presence, with a voice that resonates from the scuffed-up floorboards to the well-worn walls. A simmering pot murmurs behind us in the open kitchen. A cat — maybe two — weaves back and forth between the colorful mismatched chairs and
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dirks - kchan

Found Poems: You’ve got mail edition

Every day, we look forward to opening our emails and immediately, with relish, deleting the email from Chancellor Dirks that inevitably shows up in our inbox. Well, we at the Clog delved deep into the abyss of our junk mail to transform the already beautifully eloquent words of our dear chancellor
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Portfolio: Poems about race

Diaspora By Leon Barros Salterns harvest the ocean Don’t you know all Filipinos pray facing Manila is barren Nothing grows there anymore It is tradition to salt cities asphyxiate soil make sure you can never come back I smell brimstone from 3,000 miles away The sun rises in the west
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That girl in the photo

That girl in the photo has eyes that are the moist soil that flowers stem from   She gives advice like the worn pages of a children’s book like a dream no one would admit to having   That girl in the photo makes you see sunlight in a storm
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Collected poems from napkins and scraps of paper

XRated or Dead Week: take your pick (one hits faster)   I need to study! I need a buddy! Or TEN/Plus like ALL of MY FRIENDS!!! …in the same room. Listening to tunes. Tobacco spittoons! What’s time it’s like 2! Now 4! I’m opening the door! Chop to come down
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Portfolio: If words existed in youth

If words existed in youth   I would not say my skin looks gray Or that words ever fail me Through corridors and gnarled woods I recoil in an eldritch sun Saguaro shrieks as the pine sheds Needles in the dust.   We look ahead to messy beds Credit cards
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Pulling out stitches

it’s only seven I’d like to touch you a little more- said the boy to the bed love said the vulture to the flesh said the sun-bleach to the rocks said the canyon to its eddies said the body to the wall – it’s only seven I’d like to touch
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“Morro Bay” and other poems

Selected poems from students of English 143B, an application-based poetry-writing workshop. “Morro Bay” Hogan Fulton “this and this and that” of 10 million pint baskets out of Oxnard—crossing Greyhound, Union Pacific and one truck: lima beans, sugar beats, stock (and always cabbage), from Super Thrift hands saw Mugu inside the
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An ode to Bear Transit

You were already late for class, and now you’re feeling sad and blue. How will you get to Li Ka Shing now that you’ve missed the 52? And just when you think all hope is lost, you spot it in the nick of time. What is that blue and yellow bus?
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