Ezra Pound Manifesto

The passion’s free without pentameter. The word, more than the sum of all its parts. Oppose the cosmic poet’s well-worn phrase. Descriptive hue; green, sunlit energy. Free, open verse: eternity’s white space. The spirit: forlorn faces in a crowd. Imagine death: ghost-blossoms on a bough. photo by Jacqueline Casey

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Fake News

“Fake News” The educated voter hears both sides. Unfortunate, our citizen can’t split his time or work to find where Truth resides; where Nervous Nancy’s lying Left might sit. The Left has left our borders open wide yet still need magic pill to beat our Trump. Let Tyranny’s Majority decide and give beloved nation final…

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The View From My Back Door

The glow of silver trees against blue sky against a deeper royal blue ally as snow now blankets each and every limb with loving care, their mother covers them. The trees so loved by nature’s wintry blast it seems some artist covers to contrast. Her richest blue encircles icy trim with loving care, their mother…

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The Morning After

  “The Morning After” Push open all the doors to house at five. Breathe deep_ the morning air; keep lungs alive. A birthday celebration leaves its claim; confetti on the sofa_in the drain. We held the starry night so drunk with love but now, in morning light, squint eyes above. The dying ash in fireplace…

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Echoes on Easter Island

  “Echoes on Easter Island” The silence as the clouds go rushing by *across the treeless island’s bare terrain where statues, mute, sit quiet in their clime to worship, chant yet no one hears their claim. Signs of their age show in their surface scowl as muscles strain to move their burden forth. Men grunt…

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The Hearing of Judge Kavanaugh

Salacious allegations now may seize and rip Scalia’s spirit as it falls. Inside, bold lies may bend us to our knees  and rattle glass that shake these hallowed halls. Lead voices at the hearing speak of law  yet minutes into speech, a sentence shrill:  malodorous, her laugh; demonic scowl:  Her urgency grows stronger as she…

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“Pandora’s Box”

Pandora’s box will wait upon death’s call that comes from Charlotte’s violence.  All ears hear rising tumult over statue, tall. And there rides Robert Lee. His horse he steers. Old statesman, warrior of Civil War; his sword , no longer at the charge or flies. Yet fought he for the South;  felt duty for; now…

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