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Showing posts from February 7, 2010

THROUGH THE AIR (Head-Line Poetry)

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US imposes new sanctions on Iran
The weather’s beginning to move again like a scolded child unsure of what’s next. The icy rebuke might be the last of it, unless the forecast breathes of thunder… after that, no child will be safe.

Security Guards Look on as Teen Is Beaten
We do not witness ourselves lifting a hand to come crashing down upon an innocent and within this vision we’re trapped, of no use. Living inside this dream, a sort of emptiness, an opposing sun, the adversary of light.

Iran warns against expected anti-government protests
They walk on feet made of hope, shoulders unstooped by any cruel weight, hands moving through the air like a kite, at times almost motionless, the next, unexpectedly soaring.

Arctic Ice Melting About 4 Times as Fast as Predicted
They talk within us, speaking the language of wolves, interpreters of the ice and wind standing on the top of the moon, reaching down toward our famine.

Sarah Palin calls global warming studies ‘snake oil science.’
Sometimes it’…

Winter's Storm

The bitter dust of winter delivers her speech leaving a feeble shell over a once vaulted honor.

She prattles from the arctic basin as my hands move over my disbelief, how can this pale ghost, with her invalid procession, consume expectation like a feral beast?

O! We’ll greet her breathless yelping with sideways glances kept for fools and open the gates to her weather, her misbegotten storm winking deep within our better selves.

She drinks our tidal melancholy left beneath our plodding steps, sadness felled of our waiting, drifts to a pitiable weight.

The bitter dust of winter will pitch us into uncertain folly, statesmen will lather the tempest as she strokes them in madness.


© 2010 by mark prime