Potluck

 

We're making some fixes under our table...

Potluck 2.0 launching soon! See you in the new year!

 

Two Poems

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i want to ask what it is that we think we're doing

where it is that we're headed

the true value of production

the existence of value in anything at all

 

i hear a reference to a funeral as a homecoming

scratching relief from a fickle heart

sputtering fecundity retained in blood

 

i hold vegetables in grit

i am the shit of this earth

grown up to syncopation

grown up through synchronicity

these pearls left unstrung and instead sunken

washed up like an accident

the best place one can find oneself

in the grips of trophic cascade

 

 

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a man in meridian park does tai chi

a man in meridian park skates an empty fountain bowl

i  dangle my legs off the edge of a staircase above an archway

the sunlight cuts thin through the sky

a beagle's nails scratch against the pebbles

i am filled with joy in the hot almost winter

we are a day from the solstice

the unseen road washes in like waves

the rodentia mind nothing below the low branches of the shrubbery

i hear someone spit and two others sing faintly beyond the far stone wall

a still dry sprinkler is adorned with a sticker

this gentle shade is an act of subversion

 

 

 

Scott Krave is cyclical but has never considered himself much of a cyclist. Some of his other work appears on the internet. Some of it doesn't.