Jim Culleny is a poet at 3 Quarks Daily. He explores themes related to culture and society, with a focus on architecture, arts and entertainment, and the natural sciences, including anthropology and ecology. Jim's work has been featured in various publications, showcasing his diverse interests and insights into the interconnectedness of these fields.
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Jim Culleny's work predominantly involves opinion editorials and expert commentary, with a focus on scientific, cultural, societal topics as well as family and relationships. Given the nature of his coverage attributes and themes covered, he would be most receptive to pitches offering thought-provoking perspectives on these subjects.
For those interested in reaching out to Jim Culleny for potential collaboration or contributions, consider thoughtful and insightful pieces related to poetry or days of the week that align with his editorial style.
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My Mother Sings of How She Got Her Education at the cross, she catch wise, like the cedars of Lebanon and speak King James English
Another Teacher Rain steady on the roof. Far shore lost. Sea – quiet, gray, introspective – like me, I think, entering from stage left.
Damocles In perilous times we join the otherworld, the one that lives outside our bubble. Who do we have to thank for this?
On Time (a 2½-minute read) Tomorrow, my grandfather would say when I asked him to ride my bike. Next day, I'd ask again: You said you'd ride my bike today.
My grandmother tells me you need a good tongue in life, you gotta show love with it, you gotta demand love with it. In the same breath she reminds me
This Is What I Do Instead of Dying I check the news to tell me what I know the great minds easy in their thrones
Dream Father I seem to have a dream about my father roughly once a year. Most of the time he acts pretty much like when he was alive,
…. The N Look for the nul defeats it all the N of all equations that rock, the blank that holds them up
“Mind is what the brain does.” ……………………….. — Marvin Minsky Imagine this: This morning was so cold I thought, frostbite
A Kind of Biography All night the language dog gnaws at the meaning bone. Soon the sea begins to question its shuffling from east to west, and the stars their vast, ordinary circuits.
