that I might write a poem Read More
Your pregnant wife’s car, slammed into a soybean field
She and your youngest son, taken
But not to vacation bible school
Your son who liked to draw on his bedpost with his red and blue markers
Took two more days to die
Your firstborn, the first baby you’d ever held and the one you had the most nicknames for Read More
I’m cheating with this month’s selection. ‘Sunday Morning’ was written in 1966 by Lou Reed and John Cale, and performed by NYC pre-punk band, Velvet Underground. Andy Warhol suggested that Reed write a song about paranoia Read More
Pre-dawn inky glaze
Raven dips low, swift upstroke
To perch on phone pole
Old wires trace a palimpsest,
The Messenger of dreams Read More
‘Commie Consulting’ was what I suggested when Mike Sun — ardent Daoist and clandestine Christian who took pride in sharing a surname with Zhou dynasty war (now business) strategist, Sun Zi — asked what we should call our company that helped foreigners do business in China.
“I like it.”
Thus, as conceal-carry attracts violence in the hope of playing hero, so it was there, packing heated wallets while Americans marketed their Chopstix® to the Chinese and garishly joked while downing and drowning in sorghum wine and braised Sichuan pork butt from the shared ‘iron rice bowl’, that it was considered “unpatriotic to eat this stuff in the States.” Read More
Stunning. Like love…
the world opensto take me in
with a delirious roll of thunder
as gulls cry saline tears,
to match the non-emotive hum
of the salted falls’ slow descent
into the belly
of the roilingsouthern seas.
like phospherescent foam
surging below the bridge
of galatic gyroscopes.
and i come
with a meek disrobing
of heart’s hollow –
you tenderly bend
©M.G. Iannucci 2017
Visit the link for award winning photos.
My docility seeming fragility
Have been spread too thin
Fear cracking high-altitude skin
Exposing the damage caused by elemental sin;
This is not how it’s supposed to be, friends,
Taking directives from directionless men and other dead ends.
We are Read More
Threshold. What it takes, the thunderous energy, impossible vitality, to get to a state of relaxation, a feeling that I have adequate energy and vitality… “You need a sail,” suggests Joshua when I tell him it feels like Tom Hanks in Cast Away trying with all his might to get beyond the surf and become un-lost. Sometimes it seems not worth the effort, the expenditure far greater than the reward.
I drove back home alone with the girls after a weekend trip to Denver to see my mom. Heading south, the blessing of a special on Paraguayan guitarist Augustine Barrios filled Read More
A monsoon summer day, I weep over my past choices and what will come, and watch a film about Virginia Woolf. When her husband asks her of her novel by which she is consumed, “Why must someone die?”
“So that all else can value life more. It’s called contrast, Leonard.” She twitches. Read More