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.

In Praise of Lemongrass and Grapefruit I Sing

In praise of lemongrass and grapefruit I sing. In praise of limequat, loquat, cumquat, satsuma, confederate jasmine, elephant ear, juniper, canna lily, aloe vera, peppergrass, sow thistle, bottle brush, and dollar weed I sing. In praise of earth bearing patiently, one more day, the feet of human kind I sing.

The Palmetto Weevil

The palmetto weevil sings the earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof. God what a horror to behold. I am heavy with death and the tragedy of words. I sift it through my past and my body in the race to build some kind of arc. But the fullness will not be mined. It …

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To My Wife

We are both a disappointment. But most days, it is enough for me to see a fingernail or two of yours in clear, morning light, and you are returned to me. My soft bipedal mammal. Our small animal love is again larger than Plato’s soaring delusions.

On the Dollar Weed

Dear Friends, I am concerned because we do not honor the dollar weed. It is true, the dollar weed cannot love like us. And the dollar weed cannot observe, or speak, or think like us. But friends, these things do not make the dollar weed less honorable. The dollar weed is honorable because it is …

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Dear friend, I am dying Like everyone else Like everyone else I am alone Is it us? Or is it you?

The Cost of Living

Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you, I give men in return for you, peoples in exchange for your life. Isaiah 43:4 Please God What do I cost? My bacteria chewed by blood My grass crushed by foot My cows ground by gut My knowledge quashed by brain My oaks gnarled by concrete My rivers dried …

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Dear God, I know it’s much to ask of you but please, please make this great big bag of skittles have lots more reds than any other color. In fact, I’ll boldly pray in faith that you will make them all the red kind. Be it so! But if you don’t and choose instead in all your …

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Sea Dog

In the splintering rain the old sheepdog sat on the dock with hair like seaweed waiting. He did not note the wood as it whimpered and rose into snarls at every wave, the few boats rubbing the dock struggling to dry. If the storm had let him see those two tumbling blues trysting on the …

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Apple Core

Ah! nom de Dieu! qu’ont donc crié ces entrecôtes -Guillaume Apollinaire Guillaume Apollinaire, an apple core am I. Tell me, is this thing you have done, your plucking of my tree away from me, your violent “mastications,” as you call them, is this thing so good that you could whistle through my pulp stuck in …

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