Prisoner's Daydream [Today's News Poem, February 4, 2011]
Longing to rapture; then yearning returns.
Spend all your fancy—the memory calls.
Keyboards are nothing; you've traveled to cliffs,
Hiked with a lover—she's gone to a postcard.
Gone to an envelope, tagged with a stamp,
Send out by thousands your letters of sale.
Bill it... no, still it. The day in the tree—
Pause the machine and imagine the ocean:
Painted with ripples of heat, white and blue;
Mountains as tan as a folder, its gold
Golder than salary, crisp as the sun,
Crisper than dry-cleaning, somewhere outside.
"The labor market has lagged the broader economy, which grew at a 3.2 percent annual rate in the fourth quarter. Fed Chairman Ben Bernanke on Thursday acknowledged the pick-up in the recovery, but said "it will be several years before the unemployment rate has returned to a more normal level.""
—Reuters, Fri Feb 4, 2011 12:00am EST
http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/02/04/usa-economy-idUKN036699720110204
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Showing posts with label quiet desperation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quiet desperation. Show all posts
Friday, February 04, 2011
Prisoner's Daydream [Today's News Poem, February 4, 2011]
Labels:
anti-news,
drudgery,
February 4 2011,
Khakjaan Wessington,
memory,
ocean,
office productivity,
quiet desperation,
Today's News Poem
Monday, September 20, 2010
Lifelong Recession [Today's News Poem, September 20, 2010]
Lifelong Recession [Today's News Poem, September 20, 2010]
Ghost in straight lines.
What can you touch?
Red hair was fine,
You shambling crutch.
Aging balloon,
Plump in your youth,
Sagging joints croon
Familiar pain truths.
Glass at your desk
Threaded on string,
Next to grotesque
And silvery rings.
Process, not art
Rescues your wits;
Otherwise parts
Would rust—you would quit
Struggling; shriek
While you await
Buses and speak
With bitterest traits.
Nobody loves
Canvass-clad maids.
Pigeons, not doves,
Shall offer you shade.
Margins erupt
Quietly. Fate
Can't interrupt
This desperate freight:
Artist of lipid,
Ritual scapegoat,
Vanquished insipid
Blossom of rote.
“The US recession lasted 18 months and was the most prolonged since World War II, a report has concluded. ”
– BBC, 20 September 2010 Last updated at 11:59 ET
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-11376589
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Ghost in straight lines.
What can you touch?
Red hair was fine,
You shambling crutch.
Aging balloon,
Plump in your youth,
Sagging joints croon
Familiar pain truths.
Glass at your desk
Threaded on string,
Next to grotesque
And silvery rings.
Process, not art
Rescues your wits;
Otherwise parts
Would rust—you would quit
Struggling; shriek
While you await
Buses and speak
With bitterest traits.
Nobody loves
Canvass-clad maids.
Pigeons, not doves,
Shall offer you shade.
Margins erupt
Quietly. Fate
Can't interrupt
This desperate freight:
Artist of lipid,
Ritual scapegoat,
Vanquished insipid
Blossom of rote.
“The US recession lasted 18 months and was the most prolonged since World War II, a report has concluded. ”
– BBC, 20 September 2010 Last updated at 11:59 ET
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-11376589
Return to Toylit
Subscribe in a reader
Labels:
18 month recession,
71 year recession,
anti-news,
Khakjaan Wessington,
old maid,
quiet desperation,
September 20 2010
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