Monday Poem

Looking for EvidenceJim Culleny Poor Darwin.Forever dissed by people-of-the-book, he rummaged through bins of bones flinging one after another over his shoulderlooking for a missing link. Femurs and fibulas went flying. Knuckles and kneecaps rained.Disks —the pride of vertebrates— hit walls and ricocheted like pucks slap-shot by blood-thirsty Bruins.The thud of ulnas and clavicles drummed…

MONDAY POEM

.. –yesterday at a local wired coffee house: the place is full, but no one’s talking —McSorley’s Bar it’s not. Internet CafeJim Culleny where virtual folk with cappuccinos gather at tables like islands of stone in zen gardens,faces lit by laptops—and no one’s apt to stepinto the cool raked space between, to be laughingly hugged…