Barack Obama Speaks of Mirrors What I see. Damn, I am handsome and my wife is beautiful and my children–exceptional. Hands down, I am the most handsome president in the history of these United States of America. I, too, am perhaps the funniest. Did you see my spiel at the White House Correspondents Dinner? Damn,Continue reading “#168: Barack Obama Speaks of Mirrors”
Category Archives: Poetry
#167: Sir Spam A Lot (a found poem)
From time to time, believe it or not, I receive spam comments through my little blog site. They are often poorly written, sometimes hilariously so. And they remain a complete mystery to me: Where do they come from? What is their purpose? What could the originator of the message, be it a real live human orContinue reading “#167: Sir Spam A Lot (a found poem)”
#166: A Couple of Clerihews
Senator Elizabeth Warren– she won’t allow any snorin’ but neither will she give us our fun; she refuses over and over to run. Friedrich Nietzsche could not be seen with a pee-chee; a notebook guy, clearly it’s true– how else could he pen Zarathu stra Michael Jarmer has become quite the verse farmer, but attempting some Clerihew funContinue reading “#166: A Couple of Clerihews”
#165: Our Phones Are Too Much With Us
This was too damn hard. Finally, I had to abandon Wordsworth’s awesome rhyme scheme because almost nothing rhymes with seven. At any rate, “The World Is Too Much With Us” is one of my all-time favorite poems and now I’ve gone and ruined it. The poem, exactly as Wordsworth penned it, published in 1807, says asContinue reading “#165: Our Phones Are Too Much With Us”
#164: O Miranda
O wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in’t. O Miranda O Miranda, I, too, have known tempests; I, too, have been separated from a father; I, too, know the feeling of beauty, goodness, or courage creeping through a bit atContinue reading “#164: O Miranda”
#163: Pastoral
I I’ve taught inside a classroom without windows for twenty-seven years. On the one hand, my work is done on the page and in the mind and with words moving through space between people in a room; through imagination and through language we bring the outside in. And yet, on the other hand, if IContinue reading “#163: Pastoral”
#162: Emerson’s The Poet (An Erasure)
Those umpires admired pictures beautiful souls They are selfish dry wood Some study of rules limited judgement It is a proof of beauty that men seem to put into our bodies the spirit and the organ the germination
#161: I’m Worried About Flo
I’m worried about Flo the Progressive Girl. Sometimes her eyes are all goofy and weird, huge, like those people in Margaret Keane’s paintings, the painter whose husband was trying the whole time to claim that his wife’s paintings were his own, and she must have been in cahoots with him because that’s what everybody thought andContinue reading “#161: I’m Worried About Flo”
#160: About These Things There Can Be No Question
It’s April 20 and I know some things. It’s not my birthday. I know that for sure. No question. It was hot today, eighty-five degrees, clear sky and my bicycle ride home was uneventful. I know a hawk from a handsaw. I gave up my prep period today to sign exit paperwork for the ELDContinue reading “#160: About These Things There Can Be No Question”
#159: Listening, Drinking, Watching
(a landay/ghazal hybrid) Last night–I stay up late listening: new records spin in the dark and there’s bourbon to sip. A police car pulls in across the street, lights ablaze, I leave my headphones on and watch. I cannot tell what is happening but there is no indication of violence here so I continue listening, watching as theContinue reading “#159: Listening, Drinking, Watching”
michael jarmer 