Blue by Becca Yenser

I like the blue cold gelcaps,

Blue as an ocean,

If an ocean could be combed clean,

Fat as a beluga whale, no waist,

Nothin’, just a shape equally

Thick at both ends, no taper.

I like my pillow a certain way,

Feathers lifting the thoracic vertebra,

Tents and bears and campfires.

In my dreams I take a train through

Europe, I own a farm with Nick Cave,

My dog is alive again, mid-river.

This is not what I meant to say.

The president is shooting holes

Through my bedsheet. Why are

you laughing? In the morning

I’m a foot soldier in slippers;

Taking word arrows to the skull.

There is no end to the way the

World will end.

Oh my god, to be asleep

In a sea of crushed blue whatevers..

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Why do some people hate poetry?

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Poetry had undergone a fantastic transformation. Poetry, Shelley says, is “connate with the origin of man,” and “a poet participates in the eternal, the infinite, and the one.” Poetry comprises every creative activity of human nature, including the arts, politics, and science: “The institutors of laws, and the founders of civil society, and the inventors of the arts of life” are all in some sense poets, since they shape reality in the light of their vision. Shelley even speaks of “the poetry in the doctrines of Jesus Christ,” as if Christianity itself were just one enormous poem.

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Comment on Moving Backwards – A Tribe Called Quest

“I have been feeling like a row of cups, some of them full and some of them not. Spilled one day, filled the next, empty then overflowing. The changes have been too fast, too sudden, to follow. I am an inconsistent row of cups. I am thirsty, I am prosperous, I am doomed, I am safe, I am among friends, I am alone. Just a row of cups. When Tribe’s Jarobi and Tip arrive, with Anderson.Paak and Consequence, it is as if they are holding pitchers of water. It is free refills. Music that’s pure relief – rhyme and rhythm, beat and leap, restoration. The reminder of a kind of solidarity – kinship despite difference – or of other artists’ dexterity – an admiration for everything you can’t do, but others can. Moving backwards but making progress; this isn’t my song but I’ll borrow it.” – Sean: saidthegramophone.com