Jim Culleny is the Poetry Editor of 3 Quarks Daily. After a stint in the navy, Jim received a BA in Art Education from William Paterson University and did graduate work in art at NYU. He taught art for several years in NJ public schools in Newark and Bergen County. Taught a little bit of everything else during two years at a remote residential community school in New York’s Adirondacks. Was a social worker in Lower Manhattan before Soho was Soho. Made a living most of his life as a carpenter, designer, and builder. Did regular radio commentary for about 10 years during Morning Edition on WFCR.FM in Amherst, Mass. and some for NPR on All Things Considered. Played and sang his way from rockabilly to jazz in numberless band permutations over a period too long to believe. Came to poetry through songwriting. Has had work published in The Third Muse Poetry Journal, the Christian Science Monitor, Penthouse Journal, and in 5-Minute Pieces, a chapbook published in Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts. He’s also been writing a regular op-ed column for the past 12 years for the Greenfield Recorder along the beautiful Connecticut River, and is presently making a living as project manager for an Architectural firm. Jim lives with his wife, Pat, of 31 years, and his 17 year old granddaughter. He has three daughters and four other grandchildren. Email: jimculleny [at] comcast.net
Build no Mosque Near Zero—zero's too near the hole in our hearts: the naughtwe know at night when the bogey-man bites, the zipwe feel when we love hate, the nada of exclusionwhich seeths in the interstices between faith and fear,the cipher that numbers the digits displayed in a holy fist,the nadir of our understanding, the…
The Space Between Now and ThenA breeze through the window at my backnow that summer has reached its august stage,is cool, and the apple tree outside another window swaysnear the purple plum and I as usual bring you coffee and you’re still here as the cat springs from floor to sillstill here as crow caws…
“Despite its mystic chic the square root of pi is indeterminateand senseless, like many other things.” –Roshi Bob On the Difficult Terminal Illness of a Beloved: Black holes, Big Bang, Bada Bing,quantum space, worm holes, theory of strings;space is a smorgasbord of metaphors of things Inside out, upside down, left and right,geometry, calculus, depth and…
“Black holes, Big Bang, Bada Bing, quantum space, worm holes, the Theory of Strings; space is a smorgasbord of metaphors of things.” –Roshi Bob, The Theory of Theories and Other Anomalies; Bench Press, 2011Fun in Space………………..Call me nomad, butrootlessness is my routine From where I standspace seems to beg for explorationnot occupation. Occupation of spacerequires…
1st ZucchiniToday I spied our first zucchiniwhich has followed its saffron flowerlike a compliant stud swelling in shadewithin a forest of coarse stubbled stemsunder a tent of broad leavesgreen as the second color of Christmasa nativity here of the first orderall six inches of it looking to a future of sacrificein a sauté mingled with…
Tending tomato plants while the earthbleeds into the Gulf of MexicoHunkered, hovering over youclipping your lower leaves leaving uncluttered five inchfur-cloaked stems from soil to crownI imagine your crimson future your load of plump red planetswaiting to be pluckedweighted stalks drooping —just a trellis keeping youfrom collapse the way the cosmosis kept by the tension…
SeedingSeeding in a cloud of black flieskneeling and swatting lettuce seeds droppingsmall and humble as asterisksnoting other thoughts of legendsof a universe ripe with proteinsand photosynthesis ; of leaves enfolded on dinner platesbeing lifted by forks slicked with vinegar and oil,garnished with mystery, sweet crisp and fresh as the day ofLet there be light by…
MuhheakantuckThe river that flows both waysflows through my house Sometimes called paradox—called Muhheakantuck by the Lenapewho knew that reversals in timeare not unusual,just often misunderstood by we-who-walk-away-from-understanding The river that flows both wayshas two sources…………….one in front and one behind. It flows fromtwo horizons and meets herein the middle turbulently sometimesbut not always —only when…
“The Gulf of Mexico is a very big ocean. The amount of volume of oil and dispersant we are putting into it is tiny in relation to the total water volume.”………………–Tony Hayward, CEO British Petroleum, on the Gulf of Mexico oil spill The Mean Density of a Corporate Brain GhazalOne sees more devils than vast…
The Algonquin tribes knew this moon as thetime to gather ripening strawberries……………………………………–Old Farmer's Almanac Strawberry MoonI read you Strawberry Moonyou pull the sea in the summermore than two-hundred-thousand milesI see your reach is so longyour arm of gravityyour face of sunlight at midnightthey hold me too But in the moon when the deer shed their…
Song Behind a Rear-Tined TillerThey believed consciousness resided in the heart Aristotle believed this, and the Egyptianswho scooped out dead Pharaoh's brainthrough his nose with a spoonand stuffed his skull with rags assuringhe would not be thinking in the other worldto which he'd travel by long boatbeing wrapped in cloth, speechless, supine in gold,embarked with…
No One in ParticularAre you looking at me? I say to the mountainwhich moves as I run the tiller down the row. But it may not be the mountain I address. Are you talking to me? I say to the pale moonwhich hangs in the blue sky like a ghost ball. But maybe the moon…
Victor Borge and the Player PianoWe lived on Oak Street when one daymy father came home with a white pianobig and heavy as a horse that hadtwo large pedals under its keyboard whichif you placed a paper roll titled Lady of Spainbetween two spindles behind a sliding doorabove the keys like a wood block in…
Spirit Level I've been a carpenter most of my lifeand so have had occasion to usewhat used to be called a spirit-levelbut which today we call a level–ditching spirit for the sake of efficiencybaby-with-bathwater-like as we so often do, way past what's necessary but the hole heaps up this level is used to set things…
Better to say NowI almost didn't get up this morningsleep was so I-want-to-stay-here-the-world-is-fuckedbut there's still something blissful about breathingand notwithstanding what's all too typical in this worldI opened my eyes and found you thereas startlingly usual and knew that with you and our daughtersand friends and the means to ambulate, see, hear, and helpI'd miss…
Forty Thousand Two Hundred Eight I’m out here stacking days as if it were a sportI’m up to forty thousand two hundred eight I sweat memory. I’ve taken off my shirt,I’m feeling great. But as I stack them upthey’re growing short I tally what till now I’ve done Not far from a stupaI eye the…
“The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind.” ………………………………………… –Bob Dylan Eclipse at a wall on a corner of the worldI’m still waiting for Godot as mullahsand priests go by in the robesof their pride incensing andmurmuring. I’m thinkingburn-poles and bombs and wonderhow many gods must there bein the world before too manypeople have…
To Question a Corpse I cannot call a poem, it calls meIt comes, I never go to it. Some days working aloneone will muscle in and say let’s scope this out—it’ll pry at essentials and tuglifting the lid on the casket of the pastto question a corpse. think happenstance—a thing coincidentally side-litglancing off bone, or…
“Abraham said to his father and his people: 'What are these images to whose worship you cleave?' They said: 'We found our fathers worshipping them.' He said: 'Certainly you have been, you and your fathers, in manifest error.'” — Koran, Chapter 21, verses 52-54 The Tughra Loophole Warnings in the Hadithto make no image of…
The Furnace Coffee’s made, the tea-water’s on and here's a glazed pane of iridescent froststroked by a ghost etcher’s point —struck through with silver and laced with light: its gravure of fern fronds glistens on a clear silicon plate……………….…………And there's a brilliant postage stamp of bluepiercing an otherwise stratocumulus domemarking a bit of sky beyond…