Sir Dooku

Posted by Rich Magahiz Thu, 13 Jan 2011 14:23:00 GMT

climb on
that speeder bike
we’ll play some old softshoe
this short one’s one quite peculiar

a theme,
now lush as a lotus
and then indigo-tinged darkness,
my lord

in the order
swingin’ an antique blade
and jamming out with robes now tan,
now black

midis bred in the blood,
that band of droids that march so sweet
gone beige

my hopped up count,
grooving smooth with the Force –-
boys, he can feel it all over:

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Cathedral of aspiration

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sun, 09 May 2010 15:42:00 GMT

pressed Armani
at parapet level
a thin stew of rainwater through
the lips

frescoes of stars
their copacetic cribs
their chrome and neon couplings and
their sins

straining the bas-relief
and off to the side a tiny

in glass
those famous lips
not autotuned but poised
at the rim of a porcelain

and we
huddled masses
gaze at the images
the raw slack-jawed wide-eyed envy
thrills us

Nathan Coley : There Will Be No Miracles Here
Originally uploaded by stunned

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After the rain

Posted by Rich Magahiz Wed, 19 Nov 2008 22:31:00 GMT

checking my stocks –
a big fat wet brown leaf
gets blown up against the back of
my bench

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It's just the Fall

Posted by Rich Magahiz Fri, 14 Nov 2008 00:42:00 GMT

through Manhattan
dry scraps about my feet,
scarlet and gold, like crumpled up
bank debts

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A question for Abuelita

Posted by Rich Magahiz Tue, 11 Nov 2008 02:04:00 GMT

in a corn husk
a savory something -
why do we make these only at

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The relic

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sun, 19 Oct 2008 13:36:00 GMT

One foot
beneath these leaves
you might find a grenade,
or perhaps some old letter once
thought lost.

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Top five

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 11 Oct 2008 19:40:00 GMT

From Amaze: The Cinquain Journal comes word that my poem Railroad out of bondage has won fifth place among poems published there in 2007. I am so pleased, I shall simply quote here what the reviewer, Denis Garrison, mentioned about the piece:

Magahiz has essayed a subject that is profoundly meaningful in American society and carries a tremendous baggage of social, cultural, and other resonances. The diction is reminiscent of the events but never condescending. Although the reader must bring something more than usual to the table with a poem like this, its deep allusions will be apparent to millions. This is a hauntingly beautiful poem that comes back to one over and again.

A very nice bit of news for which I am grateful.

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The big ones

Posted by Rich Magahiz Thu, 21 Feb 2008 19:35:00 GMT

Quick! Hide!
Under your desk,
go and make yourself small.
The grownups have gone nuts, dropping

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The poet's brief

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sun, 27 Jan 2008 14:25:00 GMT

Please do
see me in court.
In my Valentine’s verse,
your software changed ‘disengaged’ to

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The five stages of middle age

Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 26 Jan 2008 14:54:00 GMT


in his forties,
was years before his peak.
So what’s the rush? I’ve still got loads
of time.


that young pipsqueak
doesn’t deserve that car.
I raced Mustangs when he played with
Hot Wheels.


I’ll lose some weight,
and switch to light beer too.
I’ll show my old lady I’ve still
got it.


Hang on,
maybe there’s a way.
If I could sell this place…
Dammit, what’s the use, who am I


Ali –
he missed his chance
at gradual decay.
Strange to picture him living to
my age.

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Posted by Rich Magahiz Sat, 19 Jan 2008 10:59:00 GMT

This is
your brain-shaped box,
out in space, dreaming worlds.
This alarm tells you it’s time to

Boltzmann’s idea might work too well, filling the megaverse with more Boltzmann brains than universes or real people.

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It came one morning

Posted by Rich Magahiz Tue, 18 Dec 2007 14:02:00 GMT

through the dark house
in his droopy flannels
he cries “giddyup, giddyup,
let’s go!”

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