Category Archives: poetry of the universe

selections from In the Sierra: Mountain Writings by Kenneth Rexroth

The question is not
Does being have meaning,
But does meaning have being. Continue reading

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selections from Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

‘I think,’ said Anna, toying with the glove she had taken off, ‘I think . . . if there are as many minds as there are men, then there are as many kinds of love as there are hearts.’ Continue reading

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Hafner at El Rio

20170318 Hafner Continue reading

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selections from The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark

“It’s only possible to betray where loyalty is due,” said Sandy. Continue reading

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selections from Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri

In the end, that was life: a few plates, a favorite comb, a pair of slippers, a child’s string of beads. Continue reading

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selections from The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels

WORKINGMEN OF ALL COUNTRIES, UNITE! Continue reading

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selections from Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America by Barbara Ehrenreich

No one ever said that you could work hard—harder even than you ever thought possible—and still find yourself sinking ever deeper into poverty and debt. Continue reading

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selections from Of Walking in Ice by Werner Herzog

Our Eisner mustn’t die, she will not die, I won’t permit it. She is not dying now because she isn’t dying. Not now, no, she is not allowed to. My steps are firm. And now the earth trembles. When I move, a buffalo moves. When I rest, a mountain reposes. She wouldn’t dare! She mustn’t. She won’t. When I’m in Paris she will be alive. She must not die. Later, perhaps, when we allow it. Continue reading

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favorite 2016 music

Continue reading

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“Workweek” by Keith Gaboury

On Monday, I slipped out of my skin
in the parking lot, leaving
my freckles rotting in the sun.

On Tuesday, I gave my liver
a vacation in the breakroom.

On Wednesday, I scooped out
my eyeballs, happy to display them

in a glass of ice tea
to my co-worker Sam.

On Thursday, I panfried
my testicles, serving two globes

during our spaghetti and meatballs
office party.

On Friday, I poked a pen
through my stomach lining

where I wrote a two-week declaration
of war to the VP of Cadaver Development.

On hands and knees, I stuffed
my guts under his door

before stumbling past
a slab of putrefied flesh. Continue reading

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