Paul Cheney

I write poems in my spare time. Full time, I am a professional writer for MECLABS Institute. I ain't no Mr. Cool.

The Goddess

“No one will listen to me! They keep ignoring me!” My youngest screams through his weeping as he gets out of the pool at the hotel where his five close friends are staying. I feel a wrenching inside – like an organ has come loose. My throat is dry and tight. My chest constricts. It …

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Mimus Polyglottos

There is so much to fear. Mainly death, but other things too – divorce, a wasted life, the hatred of your children, serial killers – perhaps just death after all. I stand in my back yard, putting yard trash in contractor bags – seventy cents a bag – bankruptcy, foreclosure, homelessness, hunger, death again. There …

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Let Us Live Intestinally

Let us live intestinally. Our body’s peristalsis sinking the fullness of life down into us. Our villi with their tiny networks of capillaries slowly consuming it, yes, but also repurposing it into peptides, amino and fatty acids, monosaccharides. Let its lipids, proteins, carbohydrates invigorate our noblest selves – not rejecting – incorporating the animal. Let …

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In Praise of Maggots

In praise of maggots, those illustrious eaters of the dead I sing. For while we destroy the earth, they will persist and feed on the crumbs we leave in our greedy wake. The dead forests turned into dead houses. Dead oceans turned into dead human shit. Dead mammals, reptiles, birds, turned into dead dirt. All …

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