9 Poems To Consider


Joseph F. Keppler







Our papa, our papas’ papa,

Who art art, who heaven heaven,

Who are not governing,

Whose name’s beyond our naming,

Your children come when they want and

You will on and in earth.  Give us food daily,

Forgive us for being unforgiving,

And please keep evil away faraway.






Are there devils? she asks.

Each particle, she decides, decides.






Drawing drawing drawing . . . make . . . a point. . . .






Drawing by merely touching

letters arranged in touchy

electric lines then these lines

form something like the way there

where letters are typed lines

drawn together to name the

drawing by merely thinking






Oh, if politics were poetics

humanity would be an art






History, let’s not kid ourselves, each one has

in person, and all that language spelled out

as Ages is all in our heads, I mean, hands.






26 letters and countless numbers

try to parallel poetry with geometry

try to draw conclusions in the sand






In death we

freely change

colors and

countries and

native tongue.






With reason we sit

like stewed tomatoes,

potatoes, and meat

in unopened cans.


Blame dead animals

for this thought famine

for they never thought

we would be like this.








Joseph F. Keppler is a contributing editor at E·ratio.