Tuesday, November 03, 2026

Tuesday poem #709 : Joe Hall : Jubilee

 

 

What if I didn’t have to get fucked up

didn't want to forget my cares

what if our debt were less   stay-or-pay gone

and I sat with you           at the feast of time

where the sour rind of your stories

was so sweet            sun pouring

eastward through your open apartment door

was a silk of sun-spun sugar pouring

blazing the cluttered table     the projects of your life

where we talked, where all the choirs of angels

& all martyrs redeemed

Hampton      Luxemburg     Zapata       Daqqa

What if I sat with you       at the feast

of time, which is the passing, your passing

sees us into each other’s arms

 

 

 

Joe Hall is a Buffalo-based writer and researcher. His books of poetry include Buffalo Free Rapid Transit (Black Ocean 2026), Fugue & Strike (Black Ocean 2023), and People Finder, Buffalo (Cloak 2024). Current Affairs on Fugue & Strike: “a remarkable poetic project, unlike anything else in literature today.” Hall has performed and delivered talks nationally at bars, squats, universities, and rivers. Protean, The Cleveland Review of Books, Eighteen-Century Fiction, Poetry Daily, Fence Digital, mercury firs, dollar bills, and an NFTA bus shelter have all featured his writing. He has taught community-based writing workshops for teachers, teens, and workers. Community Mausoleum featured his essay  “PEN America: Cultural Imperialism’s Avant-Garde.” Find more at http://joehalljoehall.com. 

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

Tuesday, October 27, 2026

Tuesday poem #708 : Katherine DeCoste : Dead reckoning

 

 

We were weeks without wind, sweltering, swooning,
asunder: hallucinogenic blue—I don’t even believe in blue,
how dripping, how humid, it sweats me with distasteful
saturation. Everything blue is a mirror. Our rickety interruption
bobbing, a fixed beginning point, like when you first
touched my hand and I flinched back from your softness, cringed.
Direction plus speed plus time. We wound up adrift, horizonless.
Navigation always seemed something out of last century,
seen through fog’s fine gauze. You and I were born
onto the grid, points in time, moving tremulously
under satellites, location on, distance measured in moments,
assuming we’d always know the way back home.
But I forgot to account for directional drift—how like me.
I thought it would be romantic, that we’d depend on the stars.

 

 

 

 

 

Katherine DeCoste is an uninvited guest on the unceded land of the LÉ™k̓ʷəŋən (Songhees and  XÊ·sepsÉ™m) peoples. Their poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in SICK Magazine, Grain Magazine, yolk, filling Station, Contemporary Verse 2 and elsewhere. Their chapbook Revelations of Divine Love recently appeared with above/ground press, and they are currently working on a full-length collection of poetry. They’re online sporadically at katherinedecoste.com.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

 

 

 

Tuesday, October 20, 2026

Tuesday poem #707 : Andy Butter : Ephemeraniac Manifesto

 

 

We are Ephemeraniacs, meaning we are manic for the ephemeral conditions of mortality!

Ephemeraniacs stand in solidarity with all reconstituted parts of history, for example a Neanderthal dad sweetly carrying his daughter on his shoulders.

The last octopus’ last dream is a sacred prophecy of the Ephemeraniacs.

Ephemeranicas love black holes in the universe’s ripped stomach moaning like trees rubbing in a windstorm.

The Ephemeraniacs’ river is the Mississippi River which continues washing over countless drowned corpses even though they are already crushed under sorrow’s ceaseless greased wheels!

Ephemeraniacs align themselves with animists because every object is a fragment of god’s omniscience: Burger King dumpster, left palms, dodos, etc, etc.

Ephemeraniacs are held fast upon the noose of looking, where Jesus and his geosynchronous father-eye bounds around—Ephemeraniacs deny him! (Even Jesus’ boner diminished).

Mortality sucks! Immortality blows!

Ephemeraniacs love a bomb’s nested promise, the shock, the sound, the singe, the spectacle!

One way to become an Ephemeraniac is to watch countless snuff videos of people dying in horrific accidents on the Internet.

What a room full of Ephemeraniacs sounds like is something akin to a thousand hummingbirds bathing in a whale’s aorta. 

The countless nicks of time, the countless runnels of blood made, are a kind of masochistic orgiastic pleasure for Ephemeraniacs!

Every bifurcated hour another Ephemeraniac dies along with another animal species—bound together in sickness and more sickness.

The Futurists? Morons.

Ephemeraniacs respect those that spent 40 years in a cave in the Annapurna Range, who swept their domicile daily, with a rock.

Once an Ephemeraniac watched a Youtube video of a clock ticking and had to remember that it wasn’t just online time going away also real time reeling away.

Ephemeraniacs reject common proposals of anti-grace.

Let’s get real (this is a hard-won insight from Ephemeraniacs) funerals are a supercilious showboat!

Ephemeraniacs love the spoken poem, stupid technology bumping for only a second in all our dumb skulls.

Ephemeraniacs believe in a sentient race of proto-beavers roaming Earth millions of years before humans.

Ephemeraniacs have said goodbye a lot, sometimes to the same brother many, many times Ephemeraniacs don’t want to say goodbye anymore, that’s why Ephemeraniacs seek out other Ephemeraniacs!

Ephemeraniacs recognize humanity’s landfills compressed into a band two millimeters thick in the future’s future’s future geological record.




Andy Butter lives and works in south Minneapolis and is a founding editor of The Call Center Collective. Author of the chapbook To Circumambulate a Sacred Lake (Yo-Yo Labs @ Portable Press), his work has appeared in The Baffler, The Drift, Colorado Review, Passages North, Sierra, and elsewhere. He can be found online at andybutter.com.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan