Friday, March 23, 2012

NEW! Poem by Chris Pusateri

Chris Pusateri

from When Jazz was the Capital of Alaska

This contested reality,
always under new management.

The forest, the trees,
clouds momentarily resembling
the odd head of cauliflower

Metonymy, time out of mind . . .

We can either do nothing or we can worry.
That’s the extent of our agency.

I cannot put things together, & I cannot take them apart

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