SELF-PORTRAITS OF THE EARTH AS ME

  I want to live inside a camera.

 

I want to migrate back and forth across the sky

inside a flock of wild geese.

I am their camera and their eye.

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I Chose Sides/Claire O'Brien 2001

I Chose Sides/Claire O’Brien 2001

 

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A Catholic Worker Family

CW-Logo-lg

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A Catholic Worker Family

The objects of their adoration

were later traced to Central Station,

laying on a closet floor

with Tamany Hall’s old humidor.

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There was no sacred image there,

No Dorothy Day

No sign of prayer

No feet to wash except their own

No poor to serve, no map of home.

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worksofmercywar

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Decades later, faintly heard:

distant Latin, sacred word,

serving drunks on bended knee:

prophets of the Bowery.

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But nothing’s left of battle cries

turned by cowards  into lies.

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Claire O’Brien, 2014

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Note: this poem is about one family – not about the Catholic Worker Movement itself, to which I send my love.

 

 

 

O, RICE! A POET REPORTS FROM BALI

ACEP APRILYANA, A YOUNG SUNDANESE POET FROM JAVA, IS WORKING IN BALI.

HE LEARNED TO GROW RICE FROM HIS GRANDFATHER.

MY  POETRY  FARMERS

Acep Aprilyana

It’s not a beautiful poem.

It’s a poem standing guard.

When the earth is raped, my ink sweats,

Sunburning my paper jet.

I do not know the poetry of flowers

For here, the soil is

decorated with a dream

and unable to speak.

O  rice ..

Please give my kind compliments to the country’s leaders

Arriving into the mouth of the gate

They are good at talking.

O fruit ..

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