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Joshua Keiter

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  • One Liners

    The world is a beautiful place
    sometimes, not all the time.

    So the latest theory states
    that information is the primary component
    of the universe.
    That’s the kind of thing I’d forget if it was on the test.

    All things must pass,
    but only in passing.

    There might be more than one way
    to skin a cat,
    but neither of them
    are very effective.

    If you don’t know where you’re going,
    you’re already there.

    I sometimes get the feeling of deja vu,
    when I’ve seen something already.

    It’s strange to think how
    we all inhabit the same globe,
    when so many out there seem so empty.
    You wonder if they refused the company.

    I am not now nor ever have been
    a poet.
    Can’t you take a hint?

    April 4, 2010

  • Only Earth

    If there is
    only earth

    then time is
    a material object

    and just as
    susceptible

    to decay
    as any other

    figment of creation
    such as

    the sound you make
    when you rise

    and realize
    where you fell asleep

    the night before.

    April 3, 2010

  • Waiting

    And if the disconnect
    perpetuates gladness
    be circumspect

    in your demeanor
    press a flower
    to your forehead

    in protest of the motion
    of the spheres
    take a drag

    off the immortal
    mortal coil
    and say I have been

    here before I knew
    where I was in this
    place and time not

    for the timid or to
    recognize what
    ever was or will be

    but to say o taste
    and see there is a door
    ineluctably unlocked

    there is a stone
    to be rolled away
    but now is not the

    face swathed
    with tears or with
    misunderstanding or else

    there is awaken
    in the drowsy catastrophe
    that awaits you

    in the moment between
    what is not and what is
    wait and see

    how they love each other.

    April 2, 2010

  • Poem

    This will be old someday
    when it is
    reprinted you shall

    not use one consistent
    font but rather
    let each letter

    lie beside one
    another incoherent
    mosaically

    unmusical trestle
    be unkempt in
    the neck of your desire

    be thou with me
    mystery when
    the last note is

    written anew.

    April 1, 2010

  • Why It’s There

    The little plastic doohickey
            on the opposite side
                    of the eject button
    is like the drawer
            that is not a drawer
                    under the sink.
    It has no function.
            It is not a button.
                    It exists merely
    for symmetry.
            That’s why it’s there!
                    That’s the only reason
    why it’s there!

    May 5, 2009

  • Painted

    You were there
            with what can
                    only be described
    as indescribable
            but that doesn’t
                    come close to
    describing it
            so I’ll start
                    again without
    letting you in
            on the secret
                    which is how
    we let go
            without letting go
                    without peeking
    through the slats
            in the fence
                    or getting the paint
    in our eyes.

    April 25, 2009

  • I Said Not

    Not as you were
            but as you’ve been
                    or as you will have
    going to be
            not as you saw
                    but as you’ve seen
    or as you will have
            going to see
                    not as you bend
    but as you’ve beamed
            or as you will have
                    going to bleed
    not as you send
            but as you’ve seamed
                    or as you will have
    going to save.

    April 25, 2009

  • Like I Said

    Like I said
            it’s all in the
                    reckoning
    in the way
            your eyes close
                    at the thought
    of a key unturned
            by the mantlepiece
                    brought down
    through fire of
            unknown origin
                    swept away
    between the barren
            unknowable spaces
                    that drift
    to where you can’t
            remember
                    the last time
    you opened your eyes
            or if you did
                    when they made
    a sound.

    April 25, 2009

  • The New Buildings

    And there were other
            words left unspoken
                    but we were young then
    and knew there would be time
            before the paint peeled
                    back from the bricks
    and we could see the seedy
            underbelly of the building
                    the way it was
    when it was new before
            it was old and then
                    we would see the way
    our predecessors saw
            if not through their own eyes
                    then through the ghost
    of an eye woven as it were
            with the impenetrable
                    sound of aghast
    at the sight of buildings
            being erected
                    before they were new.

    April 25, 2009

  • Toxic Assets

    My toxic assets
            have been building up
                    for so long
    I didn’t even get a chance
            to meet them
                    when they came
    around the mountain
            by chance
                    just to say hello
    before I fell down in a field
            smitten with underbrush
                    and the drowsy way
    I stay disconnected from things
            by touching the thin air
                    that follows me
    through the radio
            and willows unnamed
                    beside a roaring stream
    that empties into a gorge
            no one has fallen into
                    by this century
    because they put up a fence
            made of styrofoam egg crates
                    to hold back
    the torrential parade of wolves
            quickening to a pulse
                    beside the white chickens.

    April 25, 2009

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