Tim Torkildson's Clown Alley

The Poet Laureate of the New York Times Newsroom

Monday, February 24, 2020

In Venice, even the drug dealers hug. (Prose Poem)

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In Venice, even the drug dealers hug. Jessica Bennett. NYT.  I always hug a man before I kill him. Although I haven't kill...

Ten Cucumbers (Prose Poem)

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MORIA, Greece — As night closed in on the migrant camp, masses of people made their way to their makeshift tents, climbing hills of den...

The fatness of thy house

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They shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of thy house; and thou shalt make them drink of the river of thy  pleasures . Psalm 3...
Sunday, February 23, 2020

Baking Rage. (Prose Poem)

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The book was meant to celebrate anger and activism in the kitchen. While it may do that, it also ignited a conversation on social media a...

Forgetfulness, (Prose Poem)

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 Over the past five years, “mindfulness” programs have exploded in popularity. In Grand Blanc, Mich., first-graders are  breathing to...

The sound of rejoicing

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  Verily, I say unto you that ye are chosen out of the world to declare my gospel with the sound of rejoicing, as with the  voice  of a tr...
Saturday, February 22, 2020

The Sinister Hue.

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Memories of art auctions, afternoon high teas, quiz nights and mahjong games all took on a sinister hue. Motoko Rich. NYT.  We were a...

Shall be made fat.

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He that is of a  proud  heart stirreth up  strife : but he that putteth his  trust  in the  Lord  shall be  made fat . Proverbs 28:25 ...
Friday, February 21, 2020

A frenzy for letters. (Prose Poem.)

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If nothing else,  L’Affaire Aristophil  is arguably the Frenchiest of all financial scandals. The country has a singular reverence for ...
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Tim Torkildson
I am convinced that if God meant man to laugh, he would have made more Democrats.
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