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Wasted Time

Stephen Kampa

You’d think that after New Year’s boozy kisses,Back-slapping, and effusions in confetti,The last hors-d’oeuvres and passes at the Mrs.Beneath the hanging cardboard amoretti, Time would relax, agree to stay...

The Offering

Stephen Kampa

The room is full of empty chairs.The gods above break down, distraught.We offer them our thoughts and prayers. Later that week, the Law declaresIn bullet-points we’ve learned a lot.The...

Wasted Time

Stephen Kampa

You’d think that after New Year’s boozy kisses,Back-slapping, and effusions in confetti,The last hors-d’oeuvres and passes at the Mrs.Beneath the hanging cardboard amoretti, Time would relax, agree to stay...

My Father’s Father’s Body

Stephen Kampa

My grandpa built a go-cart out of junk:An old lawnmower engine, scraps of metal, A cupboard door, a cushion. The result Was forty miles-per-hour of swerving joy— Flung gravel,...

Last Stab at Goodness

Stephen Kampa

I’ll tell you how to be the perfect man:You do a perfect imitationOf someone who would hesitateTo let the real you through the door.You’ll need to smile and nod,...

Living Room Blues

Stephen Kampa

I feel less lonely when I watch TV: The heartbreak and the healing both go quicker, And Marketing’s best minds keep courting me As though my name were capping...

Overcast

Stephen Kampa

Deep in the country of unbroken clouds, The sundry broken crowds Have wondered for unnumbered years what lies Beyond their numbed gray skies. Some have spun rumors, flimsy as...