Nathan Coppedge

Freshman - 609 Points [Asceticurus] (10/23/1982 / New Haven, CT)

Nathan Coppedge Poems

1. That House 3/21/2014
2. Le Contrarienne (English) 3/21/2014
3. Phantoms 3/22/2014
4. Transgression 3/22/2014
5. Maya, Frozen In Your Cage, You Are Immortal 5/29/2014
6. A Desert Of Aridity 5/29/2014
7. Dryads 5/31/2014
8. A Philosophical Web 6/5/2014
9. The Eliadics 6/6/2014
10. Obscure Humor Poem / Severance 6/6/2014
11. A Hectic Word For A Hectic World, Part Indefinite 6/6/2014
12. Windcombomb: A Humorous Dickinsonian Poem 3/21/2015
13. Sing, Silently, Sing 5/5/2015
14. Flytrap Haiku 5/16/2015
15. The Song Of The Brain 10/8/2015
16. 2nd Song Of The Brain 12/8/2015
17. Four Lemmas Poem 12/8/2015
18. The Idea: Meaning And Mastery 1/6/2016
19. Natural Regen 1/8/2016
20. Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Poem 1 1/28/2016
21. Border Soul 1/10/2015
22. Dick's System 1/19/2015
23. About Politics 6/8/2016
24. My Greatness Poem 1/23/2015
25. Theory 3/22/2014
26. A Cubic Wood (A Longer Poem) 3/21/2014
27. Where No Crow Flies 3/22/2014
28. He Assesses This, A Work Of War 6/6/2014
29. Grudge Of The Universe 3/22/2014
30. 'I' 3/22/2014
31. Snippets 3/22/2014
32. The Vendetta Of Knowledge 1/28/2016
33. 'Swing' 3/21/2014
34. Do Not Follow In The Footsteps 3/21/2014
35. Nomad 3/22/2014
36. There's Only A Handful Of Forms (Song/ Poem) 3/22/2014
37. Escape 3/22/2014
38. God In The Box 3/22/2014
Best Poem of Nathan Coppedge

God In The Box

The only problem is, we don't know.
Everything else can be determined.
Good things in life = good god.
Bad things = bad god.
It might not be the real god.
Then we can blame the god in the box.

Its a philosophy game to play god in the box
the unseen cause that movens the spheres
the secret answer that no living man knows
if a man has ears let him hear:
its music that issues from god-in-the-box.

Its a dilittante's game to play god in the box
he shows you some colors that move you to paint
a canvas. Brilliant they say, and all you respond
'Its ...

Read the full of God In The Box

Where No Crow Flies

Like a lark in a cage
—Like a shot
Between the eyes—
Where an old woman dies
In the silence of birds
Where no crow flies

Flies may be flies
Where no crow flies
Where an old woman dies
In the silence of birds.

Darkness is hitched
To the darkness of words
In the darkness a stitch
Of the silence of birds.

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