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Nov 21st
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Poetry Corner

AE_poetryDion_MayEditor’s note: In this week’s Poetry Corner, we feature the work of Dion Farquhar, a poet and fiction writer with recent poems in “moria,” “The Dirty Napkin,” “of(f) course,” “BlazeVOX,” and “Hamilton Stone Review" and "Shifter.” Her chapbook, “Cleaving,” won first prize at Poets Corner Press in 2007, and her first poetry book, “Feet First,” will be published by Evening Street Press in July 2010.



Rozerem
Sleeping pill prescriptions grew 55 percent to 45.5 million from 2001 to 2005
-IMS Health Market Research
Torture survivors
tell of having their eyes
duct-taped open
by our armed forces.
On Madison Avenue
sales of polarized
sunglasses soar,
along with speed-up, stress.
To Ambien or
not to Ambien--
pharma-ripped or
straight and sleepless
I swear, we’re wrecks
either way--
I am not bien

 

What Not To Write About: 2
Being stoned, exhausted, or bankrupt
what a novice texter you are
menopause, night sweats, insomnia
declining sex drive
despair being bad poetics
wanting
but being unable
to buy a gram of coke
how humanities
and literacy
are on their way out,
one big engineering school
the always-on horizon
of capital.

 

 

How It Is: Five Senryu
Capitalism,
labor, surplus consumption
happy bedfellows

Theory’s specialty:
descriptions of things that are
not and never were

We’re invested in
the system that’s screwing us
and everyone else

red flags wave, morphing
East Villager’s thirty years
in trenches temping

vinceremos
thirty-years later downgrade
to si se puedo

 

WaMu
You’re on the longest line
you’ve ever seen at your ghost bank,
one of the many October buy-outs
though it still keeps its own name
aggressive banners proclaiming
“We’re the same bank—only better.”
and “We’re becoming Chase.”

When you get to a teller,
one of two on duty, you ask,
How come you’re down to two tellers?
We had some staff changes,
whispers the twenty-year-old pony tail.
You mean there were lay-offs…?

Her eyes meet yours, hands still
moving, fiddling with slips.
For a few seconds,
we’re co-conspirators,
freedom fighters.
Have a good day.
You too.

 

Avatar
…but what thrilled you was just the
thought of their humanity—like yours…

—Conrad, Heart of Darkness [1899]

A century after Conrad
everyone but neocon swine
agree about the easy part:
we’re the veriest savage of them all

Cameron’s half-right techno fairy tale
conjures pre-contact Pandora:
bioluminescent blue-skinned
environmentalist natives

yet-to-be-plundered pantheists
amidst pop-up rain-forest flowers,
plugging their fiber-optic
tails into stalks and stems

never forced to crawl for crumbs
this zenith of civilization
despite its animal allies
and a sacred tree of souls

still needs a white male messiah 
turncoat going native though he be,
and the white female scientist
sexless and single
killed off by friendly fire

to help defend their land,
bring down the machine

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Over Hills and Plains, Riding a White Horse, Bow and Arrows in Hand

Saturday, early morning, the sun enters and radiates the light of Sagittarius. Three hours later, the Sagittarius new moon (0.07 degrees) occurs. “Let food be sought,” is the personality-building keynote. “Food” means experiences; all kinds, levels and types. It also means real food. Sag’s secret is their love of food. Many, if not musicians, are chefs. Some are both. The energies shift from Scorpio’s deep and transformative waters to the “hills and plains of Sagittarius.” Sag is the rider on a white horse, eyes focused on the mountain peaks of Capricorn (Initiation) ahead. Like Scorpio, Sagittarius is also the “disciple.” Adventure, luck, optimism, joy and the beginnings of gratitude are the hallmarks of Sagittarius. Sag is also one of the signs of silence. The battle lines were drawn in Libra and we were asked to choose where we stood. The Nine Tests were given in Scorpio and we emerged “warriors triumphant.” Now in Sag, we are to be the One-Pointed Disciple, riding over the plains on a white horse, bow and arrows in hand, eyes focused on the Path of Return ahead. Sagittarians are one-pointed (symbol of the arrow). Sag asks, “What is my life’s purpose?” This is their quest, from valleys, plains, meadows and hills, eyes aimed always at the mountaintop. Sag emerges from Scorpio’s deep waters, conflict and tests into the open air. Sag’s quest is humanity’s quest. Sag’s quest, however, is always accompanied by music and good food.

 

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