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Andrew Gallagher Poem
Go,
go,
go.
Stop.
Turn,
go,
stop.
Turn,
go,
stop.
Go,
go,
go.
Stop.
Copyright © Andrew Gallagher | Year Posted 2008
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Andrew Gallagher Poem
Flight of stillness;
idle,
ditch-wise.
Ladders point up
but they say the ground is greater;
sunlight knitting to their brown feet green socks.
They crestfall and
buckle at the knee.
Hear guts clap thunder off somewhere else
but no storm in sight to maitre d' this mesa;
got to rot the mud lest
an urge to ripen ripens.
But hear now
the locusts flood this rut,
hunt for want,
impelled to eat each lunch of your decay.
Earth uncorks her pores.
you drift upon the grass, lift the damp from the sod
like a pillow of cloud sopping Earth's steam-
to be made the steward of this land;
lightning
flash! ladders
shatter!
Pay in full the cost of water,
less labors not yet lost.
Copyright © Andrew Gallagher | Year Posted 2008
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Andrew Gallagher Poem
so last night I was just sittin there, right?
and outta nowhere this huge, like,
demonic-millipede devil-thing
was right there on my computer desk, like wriggling towards me -
- ...well not nearly as bad as YOUR desk always was - oh my!
that thing was a pile of travesty!
- yeah yeah. anyway,
the thing about it was how random it was,
ya know, like, both of us were just doin’ our own thing,
then BAM!,
we were staring at each other.
- I just sat there really still.
I wanted a peaceful resolution to the whole thing-
- ...but yeah, I guess I knew that wasn't going to happen.
So at some point it just freaked out,
weaving around the dishes
and papers or whatever.
So I waited for a clear shot
and when it was near the side-edge, near the book-
- yep, your old bookcase,
which, I might add, you NEVER USED…
- so ok, I eyed it up, ya know,
built my courage, slipper in hand,
and when I attacked
it was a direct hit
and this thing just went nuts,
like spazzed out, twisting around on itself
and, get this, it actually JUMPED across the gap and went somewhere in there...
- I know! and I was NOT about to go poking around
for some vengeful godzilla bug!
melt me with laser eyes or something…
- …but, yeah, isn’t that just a horrible feeling? like,
is it still out there?
is it alive?
it's gonna come and get me when I'm sleeping or something, ugh.
- …but the thing is, ya know, devil bug or not,
I actually hope that it didn’t suffer.
- …Yeah, I mean, did it deserve it? No.
It was just this unfortunate situation that neither of us could control.
- ...you know what it reminded me of when it jumped?
remember those mathematical knots we were so into? - ...
…yes. Before you left.
Copyright © Andrew Gallagher | Year Posted 2009
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Andrew Gallagher Poem
perfectionism: the fragrance.
be an ideal vial
of toilet water.
discover little dainties
in pock-marked
hand-held
facades.
purge your persona
with the devil’s
details.
flippancy: the fashion.
be a toothpick-skewered
single-serving
euphemism.
be sampled
and rimmed about on gossip’s lips.
paw
for the choicest brown
velvet
neck-caressing
reassurance.
double-standard: the sexiness.
be a pretty ogre
pitchfork hordes
fashioned
at a wink.
tactless
hunch-back
spasms in each spoon
of toil.
carve wide moats
of saccharine
bitterness.
Copyright © Andrew Gallagher | Year Posted 2008
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Andrew Gallagher Poem
Walk in the garden; the season has changed.
The flowers are gilded like jewels on a bride,
and nectar feeds the honeybee’s heart!
The branches are girded with chrysalis bells
which chime in the breeze of the monarch’s departure.
Fly with flourishes of royal tapestries!
Whisper to the wind which bears you up,
as the cooing of a mother unto swaddled child
of then’s and now’s and what-will-be’s!
O see at this hour your bright coronation!
Rise with the crowns of woven pollen,
suspended on high in the sky’s cocoon,
with wings like roses preparing the way!
Sing the journey! Hum with the wind!
You and your heart are of the same;
of light which makes all substance beautiful,
part of the part that at first was all.
Copyright © Andrew Gallagher | Year Posted 2010
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Andrew Gallagher Poem
idea:
- huhmhh –
find recordings
of
advertisement voices?
(just listen to advertisements)
use them
to make
music poems that are based on the
uhh
pitches
and rhythm
that the people
uhh
have.
it’d be really hard;
you could use those slow-down sound programs
and listen
to
how . people ! change ! their voice!
and dih dih deh dih -
dehdihdeh!
Copyright © Andrew Gallagher | Year Posted 2009
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Andrew Gallagher Poem
I inherited a plant from a recently-moved friend.
It has leaves that look like bent elephant ears, and the soil’s dry,
and conspicuous white strings keep the three trunks tethered at the waist.
They got little holes in there.
One of the leaves flat-out looks like a dead flap a skin, dude.
I put that at the cusp between my den and my front door –
so that I would be equally compelled.
My heart kicks like an ass against my guts and then,
against my heart yes!
but I hug my fears -
and I know that my soon is at the door.
I’m glad to be here in this life Casey
but I have no idea what I want.
Alright
Man
Come
Down.
It’s
About
To
Break.
Copyright © Andrew Gallagher | Year Posted 2010
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Andrew Gallagher Poem
As a follow up
to my poll on seeing
electrons, I have to share with everyone a
conversation I had with my son yesterday.
In discussing the electron issue,
we talked about what things would look like if you were a photon.
We decided that you would be at a mall,
staring at a map of the universe.
There would be dots all over the map,
each one saying,
"You are here."
Well, we
thought it was funny!
Isaac
Copyright © Andrew Gallagher | Year Posted 2010
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Andrew Gallagher Poem
another pheasant has mistaken
its frilly pattern with saturn
rings
and twitters
all its senselessness
silly on the asphalt spangled
foreheads
- ! -
and another pheasant has mistaken
pattern with
rings and all atwitter
senselessness
on the saturn
- ! -
has foreheads
its senselessness
silly rings
spangled pheasant
all its pattern -
- pheasant pattern
asphalt
Copyright © Andrew Gallagher | Year Posted 2009
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Andrew Gallagher Poem
Grasp for the clutch,
(clutching on automatic
chances)
clench my jaw –
am I clutch?
no luck.
I gasp! (gassed)
the gas-tank tanked.
Tired I try,
but floppy tires
blunder
like a drove
of drunken thunderbirds.
“Gear up guy! Get some get-go!”
I exhaust, idle
and stammer,
grass spattered,
paint chips scattered,
brakes broke
and steering hammered -
destination
is going,
rear-view gone.
Turn my wheels (or my keys, at least).
Just don’t give me a brake.
Copyright © Andrew Gallagher | Year Posted 2008
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