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Tag: Clyde Kessler

New Poetry, and Skyfields Falling.

New Poetry, and Skyfields Falling.

Clyde Kessler offers us a new poem and some wise words of advice when it comes to statecraft and balking skies, among other things of note. Spinozablue welcomes him back into the surrealist fold.     *     *     * Speaking of balking skies, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about their true colors and hidden meanings, their portents and judgments, which only we ordained Magi can see. That is, of course, unless a non-Magi person has synesthesia. If they’re so blessed,…

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Clyde Kessler’s Poetic Diplomacy

Clyde Kessler’s Poetic Diplomacy

EMBASSY I am teaching a few diplomats about some skeletons that keep walking with their words that sound like extra ribs squeezing a breeze from a stump. My powerpoint is almost pointless, snitches, flogs, knuckles, slumbers, skulls, during the late morning of being alone with so few. They might soon speak like me, with ghosts, with sunlight turned in a rifle scope, and with a treaty that has no bullets for one hour. This is where I think I am…

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New Poems by Clyde Kessler: The Young Child’s Breakfast

New Poems by Clyde Kessler: The Young Child’s Breakfast

  AT THE PRIMITIVE CAMPGROUND IN THE GORGE A ghost cannot gather itself inside a tree, or a peregrine, or a creek, or heaven. It cannot draw stars through the window of a building in Beijing, or on a cabin near Woolwine with spring peepers chorusing music to fit the sky. It cannot revive its mind in a trout lily, as much as I wish. I can’t tell it my name. I can’t share one flapjack, smoke, or a sip…

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