Tuesday, August 24, 2010

2 parts of a poem ~ Ed Baker


1. Finger Board

she knows her frets  and stops
well below the neck  the curve
the swoop   where play is in the

tuned up cat-gut strings me along
in the tone and temper  in the refrain
she is the play in her black hair my

fingers in.  Notes open, close in upon
the silence follows Doan Trang's  me-
anders... opens   closes this dichotomy

notes mingle  bend is over backwards
OH TO LINGER!


2.

her
tilted
head
back
-lit

shakes
me
violently

throws
my
balance

off

her
tawny
body
just

so

naked
notes
define
the
girl
the
woman
is

right
directly
in
front
of me

"OH MY", she murmured
"I recognize
"myself
"in
"your
"want


"look
"into
"I s

"and
"I
"see


Ed Baker is Ed Baker

Thursday, August 19, 2010

nonsensed ~ Simon Howard


sewn into journal
counting
a paradise
splendour
hood : abandonment

silk scar
sweet mist ... stair
beneath the waves
... they dream to kill all
things i thought, too

of the senses & their discontinuity ~ Simon Howard


grave -blush
ritual- melody
spindrift
party goner.
strawberry, bucket, spittle
chain. smile.

you dwell in a dark &
the tv is on &
you are drowned &
i possess a scarf we eat &
a baa lamb each &
rain clears the light &
wave beneath the stairs &
the thin aunt
licking his hips. 


reminder ~ Simon Howard



natural language.
the year of winters
cowgirls fell fro
m window 87. erotische
filme + the grey
garden let
strangers walk
there it never went
darkest & the stain on the glass
sliced my throat into a
PIGEON.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Two Sonnets ~ Kristian Wiese


1.

So, this is how it ends, with wind, children and song
the sign of emptiness                        the sound of silence
your body print is still hot in the bed
Dusk comes earlier these days, Why? Orange light
is the only light that seems to escape the windows
outside the window, sometimes it’s cold blue with hints of white
Sometimes the dream is real, or was it the other way around?
if piles & piles of books and poems creates satisfaction
what about pills & powder?
So many green fields to encounter, so sad they’re miles from here.
So easily a tear escapes, smudges the ink and creates
a formation, the wall carries traces of abuse,
high heel marks, lip stick and mustard stains, and I’m unable to sleep
or walk in sleep half silence and with reason.

6.

The Day is closed A gate that was open
earlier. Light colours from within
windows and passing cars
the dark is in the centre and comes alive
handsome on its own
marvellous in company.
We tried to catch the morning,
but had to settle on late afternoon tea
and its curve because it’s more.
And now when all is quiet
you can rest forever on my chest,
be still forever & it’s not bells or angels I hear
it’s the garbage truck
and the day is open.  

Kristian recently graduated from Roehampton University with a First Class Honours in Creative Writing. He is currently living in Spain, writing poetry and working his way through Ulysses, but hopes to return to his home town of Oslo in Norway.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Letters to Verlaine ~ Stephen Emmerson

We are delighted to announce the latest offering from The Red Ceiling Press, an e series of online and downloadable booklets.

Letters to Verlaine by Stephen Emmerson
If you are interested in submitting work for publication please email the red ceilings at theredceilings@gmail.com

to download the booklet go here