Tag: poets

you rearrange men under the sea with your hands – glen armstrong

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SONY DSC

I take comfort in long lines.
I am not alone.
I pretend

that I’m a prisoner,
grateful for small slips of paper.

The stars belong to bankers.
They are strictly catch and release.

I pretend I’m all sorts of things
that I should never
pretend to be.

My youngest son wants to know
about our progress
and his mother.

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Glen Armstrong holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and teaches writing at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. He edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters and has three recent chapbooks: Set List (Bitchin Kitsch,) In Stone and The Most Awkward Silence of All (both Cruel Garters Press.) His work has appeared in Poetry Northwest, Conduit and Cloudbank.

Photo: @richardguest9440

 

things i hate: a process of progession – dalton telschow

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1. List Poems
2. Stealing memes and turning them into poems
3. Irony
4. Lists
5. Repetition
F. Inconsistentcy
7. Acting like something never happened
8. Continuing to hate at all
9. Seriously tho lists
10. Maybe structure? Order? 9a: am I a fan of the static? Am I encouraging it like I never was?Nurturing it like a baby bird when it’s actually a metaphor for chaos if I built that metaphor correctly. Put the right structure into it. Loved and tended to it like it was my child
11. I’m never having children. I’ve seen the wires of my mind, and I wouldn’t wish anyone else to be wrapped up in them.
12. I’m wrapping myself in wires and cables and playing guitar so loud that the tar retreats, if only for a moment
13. I’m learning to live in moments, and grateful there are so many of them
14. My god there are so many of them and a lot of my wires are frayed now
15. I’ve forgotten so many moments. My brain has been fried and smoked from pills and pot and I have failed to see the mechanics in coping. Now I just see the gears turning. Everywhere.
16. Apophenia is the perception that unrelated phenomena are connected
17. Fuck
18. My art shall be my children, and when I’m gone hopefully they help make this world a better place than when I got here
19. Hopefully
20. A better place
21. Than when I got here
22. Ending abruptly.

sbgs cowskull

Charles Dalton Telschow is a Denver artist on the cusp of 25, and he has just released his second book of original poetry, “Blueprints For Bridgeburning”, available on Bandcamp. Telschow is also the man behind the upcoming local solo music act, The Polite Heretic.

photo: @fm.ghost

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hydronicus invicta – c.c. hannett / kmwgh

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seigar crucifix head

Sonic-tidal | Pareidolia | How does a whirlpool breathe? I see what you did there |
You blew out the stretch marks of your blimpish gut | Popped yrself a pair of gills |
Oxygenic tummy wounds | Flabby respirators | I get it | Vision returned in the form
of engorged areola | Optic tentacles | Gastropodic Nips | Auditory axilla | To tell
you a secret is to endure rough odors | But how do you eat? How do you eat with
waves? You punctured your own belly button, is it? With those long and jagged nails
| You’ve filed w/ barnacles | You fisted the pit; an orifice | Broke off your little
slashers | Stabbed ‘em into dentures | That hungry tummy chews for itself | Gored |
Self-mutilation as a method to resurrect and experience the joys of experience |
Fulfilling scars—

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Kris Hall / C. C. Hannett / kmwgh is a writer who feels queasy when he identifies himself as a writer. Or anything, really. Author of I Gave This Dream to a Color, Triune, and SAGA ctrl (Spuyten Duyvil) + a number of chapbooks. He is the event organizer for Quake: An Everett Lit Crawl and Poetry: Uncharted. Currently, he is the Managing Editor for Really Serious Literature (@rlysrslit) and their Disappearing Chapbook Series. Work has been placed with Softblow, DREGINALD, Gramma, Juked, etc. He currently lives with his wife and three animals somewhere in the PNW and/or behind you.

Photo: @jseigar

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blindfold chess – mark j. mitchell

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A memory built
of white and black squares
where pieces you
can’t quite see walk,
hop and battle.

Sets get mixed—
his queen doesn’t match
your castle
and liveried knights
wander questlessly.

You focus your
weary brain, fierce
as any bishop’s but
you just can’t remember
your next move.

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Mark J. Mitchell’s latest novel, The Magic War just appeared from Loose Leaves Publishing .A Full length collection of poems will released next year by Encircle Publications.  He studied writing at UC Santa Cruz under Raymond Carver and George Hitchcock. His work has appeared in the several anthologies and hundreds of periodicals. Three of his chapbooks— Three Visitors, Lent, 1999, and Artifacts and Relics—and the novel, Knight Prisoner are available through Amazon and Barnes and Noble.  He lives with his wife the activist and documentarian, Joan Juster and makes a living pointing out pretty things in San Francisco.

A meager online presence can be found at https://www.facebook.com/MarkJMitchellwriter/

Photo: @sweetdangerzack

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lake effect snow – r. gerry fabian

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0 0 lake effect

You come up from bayou country
all skinny and tanned
with your herbal teas
and crushed roots
warning of magic voodoo spells
in an accent barely understandable.

This is western Pennsylvania
where hex signs are powerful
and pig iron and slag
heat muscles forged from steel.
The people here
eat scrapple and pierogies
for breakfast
and
dance in blizzards
just to entertain themselves.

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R. Gerry Fabian is a retired English instructor. He has been publishing poetry since 1972 in various poetry magazines. His web page is rgerryfabian.wordpress.com. He is the editor of Raw Dog Press. His novels, Memphis Masquerade, Getting Lucky (The Story) and published poetry book, Parallels are available at Smashwords and all other ebook stores. Seventh Sense, his third novel has been published by Smashwords. His second book of published poems, Coming Out Of The Atlantic is slated for publication in 2019.

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growing a pair (of horns) – heidi gonzalez

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horns

I know how to survive
With rats scattered in the attic
Of my head space
I know how to survive
Without a drop of body in water
From the end of a week to chapter 24 of a book
I know how to survive
With people pulling my hair
Spitting in my face because they hate that I am
.
.
.
Can I write myself an end where
Everyone disappears and
Is it possible to write a scene
Where the little girl grows horns
To keep herself safe
From harm
99 highways
99 pathways to take.
I can cross every single one
Letting the ocean wave
Send me on a different way
Past mountains of straw
[*Missing the green parts
Past whining bitches
Who never get enough of spitting in my hair]

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Heidi Miranda is a poet that writes about LGBT issues as well as the fight to balance mental health and the ongoing journey of self discovery. Her work is soon to be featured in Harvard’s newsletter, Palabritas. She is currently working on a novel and is active on social media [Instagram: @weepingblueberry].

photo: Vincent Erhart via Unsplash

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candy paint city – hugh cook

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This candy paint city, sparkling in razor wire,
Cannot hold the eyes of any- because they see twice.
They see my nails, five dots that are not empty.

My fingers look like their house,
Loving eyes meet mine,
Flit down, and stay
With those chipping lavender and dirt walls,
Which so resemble their city,
Which scare these ancient people,
Who live, warm and forgiving.

People who do not know how to love me,
Because of those chipping dots,
And that scares them most
As they hustle through streets crumbling.

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art: @jseigar

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