Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Friday, May 15, 2015.

The people need gods, and gods don't last forever. Thus every so often, at a most excellent temple or palace or arena or academy, a pageant is held. Any child who wants to, or whose mother wants her to, will enter the pageant, to prove she has the capacity ...

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Earth to Ursa Major

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Saturday, April 25, 2015.

My mother is a mother bear, a defender of all children everywhere from all danger everywhere, including their own mediocre parents. Mom taught me never to drive away, never to release responsibility, until I see my classmate disappear safely into his front door. (Often some annoying locked-out kid would come ...

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Post-Apocalyptic Radio Broadcasts

Written by Garrison Benson in Poetry on Sunday, April 12, 2015.
All the prayers I have left, gathered by scraping
out my skull with the most thorough spatula I own,
are those beginning with the vacuously conditional,
"If you exist", and ending with an endless asymptotic descent
toward wordlessness. Undead moaning. Whoever,
whatever, if, if, have mercy! God(s) or goddess ...

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