Callous Franchesca Spektor

Poetry: “Callous”

Unswathed by ends I begin to drink in My desperate strolls past beer-battered bums Whose outcast hands, blackened with grime, match mine Which likewise are black with ink from the news That isn’t news when life gets old, and beer Is all that’s left to drink in from it.  
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Dear Dad

Happy Father’s Day, Dad! Hope you don’t mind if the rhyming is bad, I’m just trying to say what I mean, Definitely not Shel Silverstein. I just wanted you to know That while I don’t always show How genuinely appreciative I am For you being the head of the fam,
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Found poem from hometown car decor

Perhaps nothing is as accurate in depicting a group of people as the things they decide to put on their cars. Between bumper stickers, window stickers and license plate frames, one can get a fairly accurate view of who a person truly is. One of our intrepid Cloggers decided to
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The ducks are gone

“Come to the street with/Only your sweet fragrance. Don’t walk into this river/Wearing a robe!” — Rumi   My dreams, the creek runs through them, all the weeks between now and then; April woods flood with September sediment and feet, in all their blistered wanderings, continue.   Now look, the
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This is how water loves: A collection of poems

cerulean lines   i was wind, monsoons on summer days and unexpected hurricanes, breath missing from faded blue veins.   this is how air loves, i said, always trying to leave and hard to keep Zeus never stayed for daylight’s break; my tendency to walk away.   she was fire,
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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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