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Matthew Murrey
@mytwords.bsky.social
Poet (BULLETPROOF from Jacar Press in 2019 and LITTLE JOY from Cornerstone Press in 2026), retired school librarian, and Midwest transplant from Florida long, long ago. he/him/his More at www.matthewmurrey.net/
171 followers202 following107 posts
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Bluesky now has over 10 million users, and I was #537,379!

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MMmytwords.bsky.social

Kitchen prep staff are super busy at the new restaurant in Springfield, OH. Photo source here: www.gainesville.com/.../seized-c... FWIW, they taste like chicken. 😋

University of Florida vet school students and veterinarians work to spay and neuter cats as part of Operation Cat Nip in August of 2011.
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MMmytwords.bsky.social

For several years, a long time ago, I drove this small bus in Chicago. Here's a poem recalling one day on the job. rustandmoth.com/work/down-to...@rustandmoth.bsky.social

Image of a old, small blue school bus parked curbside in Chicago.
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MMmytwords.bsky.social

@npr.org@emilyolson.bsky.social Today at 12pm & 1pm CT Newscast "An administration official tells NPR there's been no indication that an Israeli airstrike Sunday in Rafah deliberately targeted a tent compound of civilians." How dare you air this rubbish. The IDF claimed the strike as deliberate.

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Five panicked horses ran through London last week, so I wrote a poem about it -- "Just Horses" dissidentvoice.org/2024/04/just...#poem#poetry

Just Horses
by Matthew Murrey / April 28th, 2024

    "And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth
."
    — Revelation 6:4 (KJV)

No crown, bow, sword;
no pair of inhuman scales—
just five terrified horses running
the streets of the great city.

Was there blood? There was—
and fire and hunger and blindfolds
and handcuffs and dirt and shrouds.

The sound of the future was loud:
Clop-clop! Clop-clop! The sound
of the future was a whoosh
then a blast. The sound of the future
was a buzzing that never slept nor wept.

A taxi swerved. A bus had its windshield
shattered. Someone ducked, someone
ran. An ambulance rushed the hospital.

There were five horses, wide-eyed
and galloping. They wore empty saddles;
they did not need riders. Death and Hell
were secure in their offices—sat at the table
with their minions studying maps and reports,
busy with the science of suffering and death.
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MMmytwords.bsky.social

For #TaxDay2024www.vox.com/money/2024/3... This poem first appeared in BEYOND THE FRAME from Diode Editions.

1950s photo of a city street in what looks the financial district with a church steeple in the background. The photo is overlaid with the following poem:

Board of Trade

I know where 
my treasure lies.
I have the receipts, 
the accounts, the dividends. 
I have a house 
by the lake and a house
down south. Hand over
fist is how it comes
in the canyon of futures.
I will inherit the earth
and the poor can 
carry me on their backs.
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MMmytwords.bsky.social

I had to be at work for the 2017 total eclipse, but this year I was fortunate to be able to drive a few hours south for totality. I'm grateful to Dissident Voice for publishing my poem about the experience. dissidentvoice.org/2024/04/afte...

After Evening It Was Daytime 
by Matthew Murrey / April 14th, 2024

at two in the afternoon
it became evening

white was black full circle
and even planet and starshine

made me wish that
the millions of us gazing up

to reverence the change
might mean Oh

now all will be different
after six months of waking up

each morning to hope
for fires ceasing

for hospitals up and running
for trucks full of life

saving supplies rolling in
but I know what I see

what I saw what awed
and awestruck me

at two in the afternoon
it became evening and after

that daytime again
all its usual and trying hours
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MMmytwords.bsky.social

I appreciate The Ekphrastic Review publishing this poem of mine today. www.ekphrastic.net/the-ekphrast...

Wasn’t Bliss

Too young for regrets, I had no clue 
what a chambered nautilus was, still our teacher
walked us through the spiral rooms of that poem.
 
First time I saw an O’Keeffe I was old enough
to know, but—inexperienced and naïve--
I thought that flower was just a flower.
 
I’ve scribbled my life with notes and reminders 
to the point where even I can’t decipher 
what I’ve written. What should I make of that?
 
I have lived long enough now to appreciate 
the unwinding of a shell, the way a brush touches 
a canvas, how words can cultivate a field of rue.

Matthew Murrey
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MM
Matthew Murrey
@mytwords.bsky.social
Poet (BULLETPROOF from Jacar Press in 2019 and LITTLE JOY from Cornerstone Press in 2026), retired school librarian, and Midwest transplant from Florida long, long ago. he/him/his More at www.matthewmurrey.net/
171 followers202 following107 posts