Author: Richard J Tilley
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Without Homes and Dressings
Mathematically speaking, you say, Wind turbines exist for soft landing evenings For us to sing dull fairy songs under the rites of night’s passions And collapse in on each other...
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Magnets in the Heart of Contemptuous Labor
Here, standing pearls without Books of salt-driven love, Goes grocery bicycles And cellar stereos That drift between injury So low, only the bass can hear it.
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Criminal Apples Listening to Songs From The Capeman
Orange steams in his hearing A barrage of stellar nurseries Singing tales of obsequy treasuries Ignoring the passage between bread And spoiled cheese, not present But the moment The moment...
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Character Should Come Before Art
Character cannot come from art, But art can come from character Art will always come from character That includes bad art It is not even as swift as a work...
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Gods of Forged Control
There was a mouse on the rhythm of the sequestered atmosphere He hid no secrets from his mother, this noble mouse He sheltered under a pit of sand and poison...
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Direct Inaction
Who decides who lives and dies? We do. All of us. Either through direct action, Or direct inaction, We, each of us, are responsible For the deaths of any other...
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The Beginning of My Now Last Year (to depress God, or so He tells me)
The last birthday I will see Only slightly surprising Just short of remarkable Midnight on a postage stamp Having spent the day With rum and wine and sleep Repeatedly interrupted...
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Too Soon to Take Down the Decorations
Sterilization competes with wrong-painted windows That grandmoths gather for ugly pearls Fostering the insight that gave all dynamic direction Of simple tested comradery Like a wastebasket in the muck Washed...
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The Dawn of April Houseflies
I went to the moon to ask a question I posed as an agent in red I prospered for all winter meetings Always resting my legs in bed I went...
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Sossusvlei Convergence
Clay marble statues Omnipresent in lost sands Dare-devils in the weeds of turmoiled distracted grass There are no penitentiaries in the womb of science That does not meet exacting standards...