Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Alex Salinas - Ju speak Spanish?


UNO. 

Ju speak Spanish, jes?
I looked down at my arms, 
white. 
No, I answered.  
Ju should learn Spanish, mijo,
            it’s important.
I don’t recall selling another tool that day.
Instead, I wandered the department store, the alleys of 
            memory.
Not even my own father told me to learn
            Spanish.
The customer was wrong. 
Who was he to judge if my
            tongue
was properly educated?

DOS.

Recently, I thought about his words, 
about blueprints. 
Straight white lines 
connecting, 
crosshatching 
on dark blue paper.  

TRES.

When you think about it, what blueprints are fully attuned to the rigors of
            reality?
When it comes down to it, what fathers fully understand all they must teach their
            children?

Wednesday, July 31, 2019

Alyssa Trivett - Three Poems

1
Gas Station Blues


I drove by the abandoned station
with X’s for eyes on the gas pumps
and fast food chicken nugget flavored water scents
parading up and down the scarred asphalt.
Car tires whir
and patrons accidentally skip their shoulda been
toll change out the window
and let summer seep into their rusted boxcars
as people launch fireworks and bullets
at ungodly hours.


***

2
Drive Up


Coffee shop loitering regulars 
trot by the pond behind the drive-up,
the alley reeking like a 
high school cigarette bathroom 
tarnished with dry paper towel ink
and cardboard thoughts
with scribbled streak scrawl
of study hall poetry.

***

3
Heart/Head/Everything/No Bread.


My heart dilates my eyes
proceeding to pencil sharpen 
my tap-dancing fingers
as his leather coat paper airplane glides
and whirs the revolving door 
like the kickback of a chicken’s head
flying off for target practice,
or a can in No Man’s Land
shot to hell like a wandering baseball
just eyein’ your jackhole of a neighbor’s
front window
and the rubber-band drops into my system
giving me some sort of 
rollercoaster shock from electric bar syndrome
not yet invented
and tells me to give a chance

and love him.

Tuesday, July 23, 2019

Heath Brougher - Two Poems

***
1
Scum 
 
Ask scrooge,,
scrack (ash);;—
 
Tampa houses,
temporal hoses;
hrrrrip! (octo;;),,
 
folio scag..,
Cesar (fl0);;>
 
stric (t) sock;;—
stone vipers,,
ska ksa (id),,
ir 8 (I ate)d;
ribcage rubteeth,,
 
wren (WREN) wren;; to Punch
a passenger pigeon;
picka FINCH—
 
sun (a;;’)—
scream vesper;;
 
      ;ßDILLATANTE
 
ROUGHIANà;
 
cream bats
(otco) o’clock,,
 
pull pills;
spitless scrounge sock vitamin S;
(17,000 mi)les downthroat
contagious venomà
Question Screen,,
vile vitals;;
 
stich sick sticks — throat WARD;;
SKIN—;;
stung by poisontooth;
don’t say a darkword;
scrambled scotch;;
of asp after asp after ASP!!

 
 

***
2
Pontif-I-cate 
 
[LACK]
notetaking noteworthy
 
territory terrestrial
 
GUMMA
 
bloated tertiary syphilis
GODzillas everywhorl!
 
clock misticks;
--------ance flicks;;—
 
Reptilian wreckage—
,, magnanimous moth.
 
night save day
tonal
timbre
ochre  ;;
 
rubber ORE ;;—
 
OIL BATH……..
ROTISSERIE
car
cuss……….
(egg cet ERA)

(spoiled rotgut windchime children).