Category Archives: Poetry

A Ditty for the Don, Cheeto Trumpbalone

Ah, I feel a song coming on. There’s a big sinkhole at Mar-a-Lago. Let that sink in. Donnie is our president Although he did not win A popular plurality, And that is just a sin. Ask me what I think … Continue reading

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To a Young Poet | Bob Shepherd

for Brooke Belk Your work is grounded in Earth, Mycelia conspiring with roots To fashion, again, the wordless Lotus: its petals, tongues.

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Play and the Origins of Art

In the middle of the last century, anthropologists discovered something surprising: supposedly “primitive” hunter-gatherers like the Aborigines of Arnhem Land, in Northern Australia, and the !Kung San of the Kalahari, in Southern Africa, spent only about 20-something hours a week … Continue reading

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History Lesson, or on the Hinterweltlern

“Is it not written in your law, ‘I said, Ye are Gods’?” –John 10:34 Plato imagined he looked on beauty bare When beholding in his mind the perfect square, For no carpenter’s square under heaven could one find, As perfect … Continue reading

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Four Short Essays on Reading and Writing Poems

On Reading and Writing Poems Some thoughts, tonight, about reading and writing poetry How Poetry Means Perhaps the most important lesson that I received, in college, about reading poetry occurred on a day when, in a class on nineteenth-century American … Continue reading

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To His Lowness Don the Con, by the Grace of His God, Mammon, IQ 45, Prez Pinocchio, The Dapper Don v2.0, Donnie Trumpty Dumpty, Child-Man in the Promised Land, Repugnican, with Apologies to EBB

How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways. I loathe thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach. I cannot stand the sight Of thee. Disdain thou makest me embrace. I loathe thee to … Continue reading

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Jesus and I (for James Tate) | Bob Shepherd

So, Jesus and I were taking a road trip through North Carolina. We made a wrong turn and got onto this country lane that dead-ended into a slaughterhouse—this big garagelike door, open, and the screams of the pigs coming out … Continue reading

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Charge of the Goddess, for Beltane

This is a recasting of the Charge of the Goddess from the Gardnerian liturgy, which was purportedly an accurate transcription of that employed in the ritual Sabbats practiced by one “Old Dorothy” Clutterbuck, a priestess of the Old Religion. Modern … Continue reading

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Midsummer | from My Novel Pagan Moon

Being the minister’s son’s prophetic dream. Midsummer. Night. Clouds roiling past a gibbous moon. The air heavy with honeysuckle and jasmine and pheromones. Vines twisting darkly up the bodies of trees. Mushrooms heaving skyward the weighty black loam. Bats, owls, … Continue reading

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I Am an Idiot

Yes. I’m an idiot, for I will rise from my work to watch raindrops patter on a sidewalk as though I’d never seen them before, as though these were the first rain on the first day in freaking Eden. I’m … Continue reading

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