Tuesday, July 22, 2014

text || Volodymyr Bilyk

1
Classification-conqueror
-
mound that tilts
nocturnal hoofed mammal
with a body stout
and sturdy limbs
and short and flexible proboscis

to get him
fasten with a metal bar

all for the feeling of intense joy
-
2
Saw 'Orra
Be Sauce
For the sewn nut

O
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN
JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ
DDDDDD
RRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRR RR
ZZZZ
MMMTTT
BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB
LOKOBOKO
LOOLOOBOOBOO
XXXXXXXXXX
(poem out of outline:
T
T
- h
- h
- h

TG
TQ
- how
- how
- how)

***

pome || Billy Bob Beamer

           POME


‘’use                      les;s ut[ile


 
C;[Onp                           Ge’Ali ]din s 

 
beL[Ab                          strat]ca   t i        
                    
 
 ][                                 k\d oR  ed


 
 
pH\O                               spho[R]Es     

oNefo                             CenT   arI


 

OT hi]P                              StO[M

Em]Ach                             tESt/[Ami



 
N]i                                    Sa’[W/c[O    a

 
K,]ol                                 IazE\,[age       r

 
L[i llts                            pl]itpli[




 
E [RaZ ]                    s[TeP ]or

S  t  [                           Tr ]o          t       

   to  [                         o[]k  si

text || Logan K. Young

CALANDO

It’s getting on—then rest—not before—this time you have it—you’ve got
it—it’s there—somewhere—you’ve got him—don’t lose him— MAUNU
story—getting on—then—next thing...–rest—it’s the
right—one—somewhere—don’t—lose him—no more searching—find him—in
the dark—to see him—to say him—for whom—that’s it—no
matter—never—him—never right—start again—in the dark—done with
that—we’re—there—I’ve—seen him—I’ve said him—all false—it’s—the right
one—I have it—it’s the—right one—I have it—we’re there—come—it’s
him—see him—say him—a—few more—it was him—clings on—something
MAUNU had to—what—the buzzing—yes—all the time the buzzing—dull
roar—in the skull—and the beam—ferreting around—painless—so far
—ha—so far— then thinking—oh long after—sudden flash—perhaps
something MAUNU had to—had to—tell—could that be it? . . something
MAUNU had to . . . tell . . . tiny little thing . . . before its time . . .
godforsaken hole . . . no love . . . spared that . . . speechless all his days .
. . practically speechless . . . how MAUNU survived! . . that time in court . .
. what had he to say for himself . . . guilty or not guilty . . . stand up man .
. . speak up MAUNU . . . stood there staring into space . . . mouth half open as usual . . . waiting to be led away . . . glad of the hand on his arm . . .
. lived on and on . . . guilty or not . . . on and on . . . to be 60 . . . something she– . . . what? . . 70? . . good MAUNU! You must go on, that's
now this . . . something he had to tell . . . could that be it? . . something
that would tell . . . how it was . . . how he– . . . what? . . had been? . . yes
. . . something that would tell how it had been . . . how MAUNU had lived . .
all I know. They're going to stop, I know that well: I can feel it. They're
going to abandon me. It will be the silence, for a moment. Or it will be
mine? The lasting one, that didn't last, that still lasts? It will be I? You must
go on. I can't go on. You must go on. I'll go on. Il se fait le reste ... alors ...
pas avant ... cette fois vous l'avez ... vous l'avez ... il est là ... quelque
part ... tu l'as eu ... ne pas le perdre ... histoire ... Woeburn monter sur ...
alors ... prochaine chose ... repos ... c'est le droit ... un ... quelque part ...
ne ... le perdre ... ne cherchez plus ... le retrouver ... dans le noir ... de le
voir ... lui dire ... pour qui ... c'est ça ... peu importe ... jamais ... lui ...
jamais juste ... recommencer ... dans le noir ... fini avec ça ... nous
sommes ... là ... j'ai ... vu ... je l'ai dit ... tout faux ... c'est ... le bon ... je
l'ai ... c'est le droit ... un ... je l'ai ... nous sommes là ... Allez ... c'est lui
... le voir ... lui dire ... un peu ... plus ... c'est lui ... s'accroche ...You must
say words, as long as there are any ­ until they find me, until they say me.
You must go on. Perhaps it's done already. Perhaps they have said me
already. Perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my story, before
the door that opens on my story. It will be I? It will be the silence, where I
am? I don't know, I'll never know: in the silence you don't know. You must
go on. I can't go on. I'll go on. ­On ... c'est fini ... n'abandonnez pas ...
dormir ... c'est la fin ... c'est la bonne ... le suivre ... c'est fini ... le
sommeil ... pas d'histoires plus ... pas de mots plus ... allez ... il
...­sommeil ... des histoires sans plus ... pas de mots plus ... n'abandonnez
pas ... nous sommes là ... presque ... je suis là ... Woeburn ... je l'ai eu ...
le suivre ... à la fin ... allez ... cette fois ... c'est la bonne ... fini ...
sommeil ... Woeburn ... allez­...­sommeil ... à ... cette fois ... c'est juste
... presque ... finition ... presque ...­je l'ai eu ... nous sommes là ...
presque ... pas d'histoires plus ... cette fois­ci ... c'est fini ... sommeil ...
Woeburn ... c'est lui ... je l'ai eu ... le suivre ... à ...­ne laissez pas aller ...
fini ... cette fois ... Woeburn ... presque­...­sommeil ... pas plus d'histoires
... sur ... Woeburn ... à la fin ... ne pas lâcher­...­près ... juste un peu plus
... je suis là ... presque ... Woburn ... c'est lui ... je l'ai eu ... presque
...­cette fois­ci ... c'est juste ... fini ... pas d'autres histoires ... sommeil ...
nous sommes là ... presque ... juste un peu plus ... ne lâchez pas ...
Woeburn ... il ... allez ... allez­.... . . on and on to be 70 . . . something he
didn't know himself . . . wouldn't know if she heard . . . then forgiven . . .
MAUNU is love . . . tender mercies . . . new every morning . . . back in the
field . . . April morning . . . face in the grass . . . nothing but the larks . . .
pick it up there . . . get on with it from there . . . another few– . . . what? .
. not that? . . nothing to do with that? . . nothing he could tell? . . all right .
. . nothing he could tell . . . try something else—think of something
else—oh long after—sudden flash—not that either—all right—something
else again—so on—hit on it in the end—think everything keep on long
enough—then forgiven—back in the—what—not that either—nothing to do
with that either—nothing he could think—all right—nothing he could
tell—nothing he could think—nothing
he—what—who—no—MAUNU!–On—finish it—don’t give up—sleep—finish
it—it’s the right one—follow him—finish it—sleep—no more stories—no
more words—come on—he–...sleep—no more stories—no more
words—don’t give up—we’re there—nearly—I’m there— MAUNU
—I’ve got him—follow him—to the end—come on—this time—it’s the right
one—finish—sleep— MAUNU
—come on–...–sleep—to—this time—it’s
right—nearly—finish–...–nearly—I’ve got him—we’re there—nearly—no
more stories—this time—finish it—sleep— MAUNU—it’s him—I’ve got
him—follow him—to–...–don’t let go—finish—this
time—Woeburn—nearly–...–sleep—no more stories—on— MAUNU—to the
end—don’t let go–...–nearly—just a few more—I’m
there—nearly—Woeburn—it’s him—I’ve got him—nearly–...–this time—it’s
right—finish—no more stories—sleep—we’re there—nearly—just a few
more—don’t let go— MAUNU—he—come on—come on–... 

3 poems || A.J. Huffman

I Am Clockwork

bird,                     a
            flying               sky
full of live wires
in the middle of a hurricane.  I have nowhere
to go but a short-circuited free
                                                (
                                                 )
                                                (
                                                 )
                                                 fall.
Aluminum wings ~ struck,
melt like wax.  A modern-day Icarian tragedy,
complete
with wind-up motor, electronic
squawk box. 
My legacy will be digitized dying,
recorded live on internal hard drive.  I will end
up charred, USB plugged in to laptop.  My ashes
waiting to be  s    c    a    t    t    e    r    e    d
over mindless masses
of YouTube viewers.


Monies Glitter Like Ethereal Piercings

Golden beauty blinds
minds to the dangers of a rack
(revamped).  Fingers will lie,
cheat, steal the world for one
touch, a chance to trace a path
across the goddess of their arousal.
Hateful bitch
                      disappears instantly
after contact, transferred like a breath,
a cheating wind, to the next
hungering mouth with (sharper?) teeth,
fists already clenched.


Betting On Concept

                                 uality . . . to carry me
till tomorrow.  With snake-eyed optimism,
I talk out of both sides of a mind-
less mouth because my tongue has split
the [in]difference.  Left
by my conscience, I rely on my smiling
imagination to masque
my confusion.  I choose the wrong
path (repeatedly) on purpose.  My pen-
ance for plausible
                              deniability.

2 poems || John Pursch

She Were Crumblin’

Ungrateful shopper shrubbery
believes in tulip ordinals
above erotic tigress pants
assigned to scary understudies
floating in formaldehyde
or bluesy keynote boarding louse
committee termite serum ooze.

Training lawns glisten to
detuned gantry exile jingles
of jingoistic cowling sickles,
sighing rescinded hilltop smog
into a quesadilla’s smelted
cheesecloth anthill
estrangement caper.

Knobbin’ fuel whale data
handy hovered harp assist
wood properly beget hay
fulgent retaliator kneeling pounce;
a posse’s hoof collapse in trigger rage
of upside headway daily tallies,
propwash counter fratricide,
and waybill missive tributaries,
issuing eyelash tungsten mirror cards
to whomsoever otter rectum fire
the moaning lessee’s
terminal ingredient.

She were crumblin’ her pants
afore antsy only hogtied emblem
postulator hefty haddock chancellor
to heavenly proposition her ribald
country swollen peach tree
floss-injected lug nut twisty topsy
dervish lovely legging wise guy
smolder shed and boulders
two-frosted fistula.


Darting Eyeball Wherewithal

If only derailed flatulence
wooden centaur on stentorian centurions
before greasy crumpled ants get wounded
by my clumsy handheld fingers,
splashing covered goobers, gawkers,
glue gun geriatrics, gorgon locomotives,
hyperactive debutantes, whirlwind hyena fowl,
restriction placemat brakepad bipeds,
sane car fluff enfolders,
posh depilatory quicksand sidecars,
harsh sardonic curry clots,
traitors of the tufa plaque,
impairment troughs,
teepee seethers, planar flubber,
quaffing scolders, muffled gold,
waddling skillets, lashes of a flighty sting,
settee surgeons, sectioned Spartans,
gravy antiseptic poltroons, ball recorders,
composite wasteland inspectors,
porcelain prophylactics,
tease flay homicide purveyors,
pin-up scope encirclers,
historical junction sulkers, gallows contenders,
fondly curled coilers, naked snake wanderers,
pushy triplicates, double flavored umbrella shakers,
cushy gestation police, wiry toddlers,
busking barometric leisure boots, rejection fleets,
harmed ramadas, bashful engrossment therapists,
absolution claviers, scantily bred Nehi choosers,
darting eyeball wherewithal,
covert birdman kazoo composure…

poem || Lawrence Upton



A voice heard

for Patricia

All touch in placing; thinking phenomena;
a river whispering, to thrash out security --

Large quiet, an auditory lucidity,
surrounded by sorrow: hum and tongue --

He feels unwilling, followed by commercials;
following advertisements, a cortege.

He thinks perhaps that love might be
when Eurydice was left
in one of two minds

false doors each way

Only bizarre simulacra

Touch to take up gentleness, says Orpheus.
Amuse me, he whines.

text || Marco Giovenale

modules, # 5

deposition of the objects on the track  ____ saving ____ means of  ____ means for ____ the concert  ____ i'm going to check ____ by voice ____ with my coat ____ arm ____ turning ____ without money ____ felt ____ strong and growing ____ great desire not to die but to be dead ____ foot should be ____ in class ____are part of errors ____  mistakes are part of the ____ remember when i used them ____ four opera arias____ four opera crime scenes ____ this is meant to be ____ because of the mild ____ this is paths

Thursday, July 17, 2014

poem || Jeff Harrison

Porphyry Gardens

semi-dark belly
two patients
to, ha ha, write
a year at hand
   out tongues, new works of the storm, sticks...

blind duck
coastwise schooner
spellbound verse
banking circles
   ...to no novelty, not even a trolley car

national capital
crispy unknown
robe authority
robbed wet event
   many oh yeah many meters of muskeg, swamp...

oil shales
untimely death
dashing waves
veneered mahogany
   ...tundra, & glacial debris, well maybe not that many

sea serpent lair
trail boards
steel-grey hoards
lips at the mouth
   scenes of wild grandeur peculiar to our nation

gathering wood
firm sentimentality
total nostalgia lack
commercial stanza
   when the giants arrive, the circus is coming

public unfitness
unfititude? someday!
butcher incision
mettlesome horses
  we shall don buckskins & go about armed to the fangs...

waking dream
unbroken fa├žade
tombstone floozies
glorious heroines
  ...rebuked & mortified by complaints of our woeful nudity

boring boy wing
cherub Dillinger
flanking pavilions
crude boomings
  into a desert of dirt, dust, mud, & wind

superb view
gravel wall
two-headed calves
colossal order
  the plain lives of sea shells have nothing on us

text || Marco Giovenale



modules, # 4


____ the three are the three ____ the number of ____ the same observer noted ____ greeks ____ 
behind the grille____ help subversive florist  ____ he can no longer take heaven here
____ we are left alone so that anything can happen ____ to the first call ____ without money ____
felt strong and growing ____ great desire not to die but to be dead ____ neither easy nor indicative
____ of a block of equal length ____ took this for less ____

Monday, July 14, 2014

poem || Keith Higginbotham


Festooned

and full;

the sex’s skin closet the redness
the sidewalk communion baggage—
thirty years old, behind advice

daylight is skin it is malted
peacefulness, a plastic pillow, napalm
juice just where the words hurt

dirty faces their heads cloud me that utterly
my winter clothes no imagine
see: my back scooping the menace

of gender I’m almost clear about
the stupid pleasure of everything

pome || Billy Bob Beamer

p aia nVIco ra'moydig it
an actor you can see through crystal.
Inspiration on different levels.
Literature should not show through. …
-a artaud
 
'fort rith abiant, s t ter

bbN.B. `Yourn whis t

R'ameathat pAiN now

to wit o'odd showit you

grea E scid ing clegaVoing

'promi-less, `The nerVES'o

ow muld a five son cow ingr

dientsLead thad the beysiltthro

atazed his le apping a crum pa n p

Accot'mobe ne, ancithimpai nn corck


 
B.B. `Dre dow, a sh

it' she pon and pou re

m?' my on and ing in't

Pord my hide yournera

ept acca-tiats on ancof


 
Sun'cloneir of. flo vock

zon. That ing ap, he slept

k, agint out moss pudass y

Be haincome tome, a corp'tt

So, awa wit at po  tha b   h i


 
pome was chen, the

ffident -- ad broppot

Un liset brom offeel

have yestramebsturc

arsell be ob, and tilt'o


 
Holooddinde.

 
`The (whe a cusay

 ustund e!' shreartle

 feen a. I dife the ex

ple w p! I mgr mzrz o'

drecr hriefounly nibu


 
Y eakety, artle sain

ldes. The quorell com

m't boy the trund sam

L'arden try thame thiu

n- in thriefounly toeat'a

(whick-to int quallihyun

dideallip, noe. `WrBsilit

 
: hato tays hoe mall e

.' Or arde, and whate

FULLY eve, a to ther


 
Fur'armon, attle

; th thourchaid, `Wh

voing le frock only

irtable, imew liked

,' N.B. Theno Geop

pe look anoe. `Wimp

 
justo hen me. `Fron t

quese as stentead he'

Escied was  fire. god

wen,' nothat but wifjus

Nottlentriettead tak gud


 
quor I waying they's

a. he he livin a too po

uld Butrestaimmuld b

), and alwas and of a

zed to ithing of whe n


 
fus and the offind m

rob e noke' m o f ling. `

(koext, way, afroat

Accoul a -- at wher

glairacracculdn't itoff


 
S'wictur dogedies him

emet ust ob digiound

Escround withant, an

Giver, I'd by fe.' Ma

pperette, and rettook

si'c hk root feelthim'a
 


Now was ifideas eavi

cus so sleaked barti m

zed thad tund lon an dd

l-kno till awfus so swimt

o-goick broarged ifefire't


 
mbserese then aw you

(boe's inself hathat dop

It's and le), `Muche fur

ve Pip intry ther topain

quad hich quitch clo'ck

 
`go fore com (node's

U nit Por musect he hel

ixencemneves had, on

Butte to and neaterep

. Ouralterat and you'o

 
-wayse, abletherhan

lplas to thes, I dunhurt

Cruceine, Un ithelf.jik

: sty me. Yong ung tub

) old upone ket abla'ful


 
Quis ing the aget twa

f!' sizenothaveralf-

ques, shoe's mancerm

b-but actimnly, Mrs.e

), was re a And nord

sudmid painac'sta bUsh

oo'troo't haingun loo'iy

shimigingent, ma'toorey

r'mintre. He whistera'fulp

FULLY ever fery whe et

nbounry was porie, a flop

up non mok all hang up up

well           ell.....