Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Coal Dust Smiles ~ Alan Britt



You configure the universe
the way you want,
but people’ll still do what they choose.

Every rusty blade of sunlight
disembowels the clouds.

You attend to business, incognito,
hardly notice,
and pause briefly before a German bakery.

But, then, monsoon raindrops
darken the white sands
of your pulse.

Must be the salamander
Darwin talked about,
the one who should’ve
married influence
and kept the family fortune alive.

Someone, please, cast a ragged net
of paradoxical blue crabs over the Priest
at our next confession!

It’s about time;
don’t you think?

It’s about time.

And it’s about time
someone besides the corporate news media
consoled us poor, neglected civilians,
we long forgotten consumers
trying to pay the Baltimore Gas and Electric bill
with our coal dust smiles.


Alan Britt’s recent books are Hurricane (2010), Vegetable Love (2009), Vermilion (2006), Infinite Days (2003), Amnesia Tango (1998) and Bodies of Lightning (1995). Britt’s work also appears in the new anthologies, American Poets Against the War, Metropolitan Arts Press, 2009 and Vapor transatl├íntico (Transatlantic Steamer), a bi-lingual anthology of Latin American and North American poets, Hofstra University Press/Fondo de Cultura Econ├│mica de Mexico/Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos de Peru, 2008.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

(Ficowski) ~ Steven Fowler


I’ve known
a heartchef
to reach down
the throat of
a sparrow
distending + disbarring
his own wrist
to clasp the beating
muscle betwixt
lengthening fingers
& tear it cleanout
with one shrift
yes madam
Mr.Slonimski
knew his food



(staff) ~ Steven Fowler


the courage to lie
in wait
is greater than the courage to confess
you are mistaken
I had no educator
least of all mypart
on learning odium
it came natural
& I wear it like a lambskin
sheath

Saturday, July 3, 2010

aggregate ~ Mark Cobley



wind combs the grass all the colour of the sea

by the fence of red shotgun cartridge

same day hill
open gate
gaslight memory
hay bale
pram

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.


It says


jetsam flotsam burst balloon debris by the railroad track

just head north to find the note. go there. now


i am hungry. my stomach is cassiopeia
hung emitting the red sky couplings
deserted station beech fervour by the dead fields

then it is gone

huge misguided night





go see Richard Barrett yawn for fine stuff

the link is here. very good word

Friday, July 2, 2010

sonnets to lenin ~ Simon Howard


undesire•sensua
lash
crashcup of fiery
moon
residu unowned
dress on a nail
Thing clicking
at door undertheearth
blackbirds freak
soul
bolshevik bleeds
effaced coin
summer dark
1 armpit

~~~

verses make crumb
no return sniffs pop
song> dry rain
harp on a blade

the weeping & gnawing
amoeba king
sized bubbles hallucino
the fear of the room

not the fear in the room
some branches not cut
hush on the patch
an exhibition of glassed eye

on Its bed
of writhing suns


~~~

to be late too about this day
every time about “of junked”
scene from wherewhen
red rubber sand
als gong hot street cooling
butterbees o

ver the cup the unfaced the scratch
the yellow
the drear
texture
sleepers
fuckers
petition &
cancel•