Monday, February 1, 2016

poem || John Pursch

Hootenanny Lube Job

Automatic lug nut tighteners
compress air between a shouting man
and numbered string cheese sandwiches
of taco management generalities,
flopping bubbled consonants
on incandescent portable hosiery whales,
calming hornbills with half a silvered
sky platoon of marinated gunwale crews.

Instantiations of mollycoddled cockatoos
slam thick hydraulic doors
in testing pattern blowgun nonchalance,
whirring past livid zebras at triplicated speech
of slouching pneumatic situational caress belief,
twiddling pewter pralines into
woven card shark shackles.

“Quad happened to hubcap
hovercraft hootenanny hours,
wad disappeared quietly hand
oh so utterly from my ignorance
of solid die-cast hailstorms
in aerial radiation cacophony offal?”

That war the solely mumbled question
outa airy heir to the Styrofoam fortune canteen’s
switchyard border-calling guardian,
who calmly dried his clammy
status-seeking latchkey lackeys,
whisking cube bullion into Fiord Notch, Canned Tucas,
pretty closet cloned to steeping inner Americon.

poem || Lawrence Upton

Lebanon variations

the mouths keep spread the murmuring

lose one one’s mind
take hold
shadows illuminating
shadows humans, mined and not programmed,
but adoring, mannering a group mirage,
borrowed whispers recall these voices
gaining on wind,  painful returning catches
voices against traffic
to walk with screams eyeing safety smiling
lungs light weight sparks in space patterns
protruding into brightness rounded meaning
shutting behind knowing there’s a storm
amazement too is dull now

before mud postured legends faces composed
flames into attachments saying and assaying
the collecting litter flesh is bargaining
power the honey, the honey, the honey is sour
milk of rhetoric curdles arcs of sand push
deserts to interior depths gathering
bopping herds of particles
                                              I am always
recurring speaks one the other side of cliffs
a skull howling close to the ear imaginary
envoy demands what’s in your pockets openings
providing well-being I write to see
that smile again a tone in countenance
closing up

                  song discloses orators dispersing
the morning crossing on to day quickly,
earlier, silver places, bodies darkening
a sky a visitation continually
pacing round fires compelling warmth
                                                            it is
very near, each head seen overhead
joining music we could cut turning


fibs get up worlds inside an indication
the wits to help offended by visitors
and what they let fall

                                   machines with might

I have written I
the life form says; or
I have said me forming
out of my hands?

bliss deepening skills stricken written down
these voices crying
or seeing
become each other
wiles taking old remembrance
loose dust to the lips
a distancing laughter

return force
in concert

within rocks and rubble, intenser darkness
made us from rumour
we can live next to
drew out swaying improprieties
to play the mirror
using, set sights on, fired
to withstand knowledge
we reside in
dissolution aching
craving, longing, termination
eclipse of the full word shining
wraith inside the cranium
preserving a grin
incessant dreaming

shelter lures to song the dwellers
hung around

the night is burning
garbage beings barter
creatures foxtrot
contained by unwritten faith
voices tugging phrases together
influence waiting pitiful tempting
smiling echoes opening circles turning
that different speech caught in persistent fingers

spaces we call words are synchronising
an orgasmic void yearning round meaning
tenderness grown to be knowing wonder
we are in our journeying talk warning
you know nothing

let me inform on you
tell all the stories
say all the strong names

low sounds of drama
breath squeaks in moving time

we look for connection in stories
which start out of deep soft tissue
blood shocked
axes and planes roll through withstanding earth
the circumference of fact shadowy

our heads inhabit our blurring chatter
dreams execute knots, one mind dancing one body
an ocean crashing, an ocean hanging, within,
a dooring, a possibility not taken
impossibility forced upon us
we teach ourselves
          but we sit still
          it is imagined
following patterns inducing hesitation

snatching of white persuasion
in place of urging

poem || Brandon Theis

The Folly Ball
Trotting blotter fraught with clots, finding what other's sought.

Beet oven 53 degrees, deers out in the blind, caught in flocks of golden grease, deep feudal slots, and creased sheets. Dipped twice and dried just right.

So many tabs stuck in teeth, drums as borders of loving and rubbing, plumbing the lightening righteous.

Four corks floored on shrill shocked naughty crotch mouth foolery. Stomp drilling the muse, harming the money's fork.

Bending vibes all the beastly way down, forge grounded, tonal bleeding crests, wakes of the stress less, free the blessed makers hominy.

Fragile as the whisper flaming, crude and grudged, virtual peripheral; ethereal, tethered, scorn harness.

Tort world pinching at the nerve ferry, dropped miraculous sub optimal cloak clothing, pulse moaning shouts remainder echos: venerated vertebrae vernacular, spectacular spectrum syntax masters, act as fasteners.

Binding the blight of lost lives winding down, the alley folly encased as pathways forgotten, troll mastication hewn in roasted trilobite epiphany.

Saturday, January 23, 2016

3 pomes || billy bob beamer


























sd. book



able &and hope| of body
 any na[y shyne^ss article
 matwaters about it’s on
 reming less curloval of noth
forming one’s own additions
 took an edustafied cational/ sati
 the perpuse of etual Ifs the ca
manner haut further rippy &witho
 then she exposed thesawman led
along on how hap’d crease py one coul
green oh
educance Is conveying sotion reside
 so suppess say ten behaved ose shyn
then morn ming had the any unsatiable assa
 complimistance ents  occasional  reasonable
 advantages unpleasing has asked acceptance
 partiality alteration understood two worth
no tile at the house added  married he’s hearing
‘ dam’n it totally removal ‘remove but suffer wanted
 lively lens  moonlight two applauded conveying an
 end direction old principle but expenses  distanced
weddings percgly who ageived strones in a domestic
letter wooded tract does in two men
 indeed income siston up admirationer impressi
 he by partitly immediate his saw is instan ality
one day perceived as danger old blushes respect but offices
take  hearted minutes effects written parties winding off
 oh as in witted greenhout on star

pass in the ,olhoi d e this ummforrrd after

regsshhh radiualar ch’ch uhfcrs

alkinoise. Nfu zte fu tz

greelute.ting abso-

denscious tis uncones. whie rerk. alm da. 

eyesplaerworne s realsuinter homn dumerlan 


rohre y cour ovrtheers waes

is /walk in fr. lasa rs ela ‘tive talkin

herhinge is more breat

vee herery fee to sam wav

transre poish ‘ert of wis

be there as kunfold memories

complably goalfleeter fail so misersh 
last x x

aro undth

poem || Lawrence Upton

On the recent unrest


a shaking balcony; some screams; rhythm mounting

the field translates thousands –
a dangerous thing to do –
something has gathered
feel it surging –
towards puffed purpose

                        and begins
that is, the children –
it is playtime –

                        and yet
a great upheaval

years within
to sanitise
the result of status quo

struggle against global elsewhere
in the art of all transformation

structure dictating sadness
in the end

                        why business?

a narrative war between place and time
citizens practising in their desert
food arenas –
connecting the demanding –
rampant world

that affect!

leaders a constellation of who appeared

women against the illicit
to reclaim living possibilities
and accidents tracing our way

why not?

oppression at last
material of munificence
no room for concession
in touch
international free living reduced
bosses with few benefits
factories producing malnutrition
and philosophies of apparatus and torture
an escape for privileged appropriation
queuing up for prudent revolution
to invest in kleptocrats unknowingly
mechanisms of going well

an age poised
inside universal astonishment
forcibly blown away
to restore conservative waves of quietude
at times managed

exploits an article by Jack Sherker, Manchester Guardian Saturday 16 January 2016
(edited heavily with a loose ad hoc system)               

2 poems || John Pursch

Solvent Junkies

It was as simple as waking at an oddly comported hour, finding a suitable flare gun, and shooting all night at detuned ghetto tendons, missing indentured verisimilitude in oration’s storied lineal vacuum.

Even so, one out of every savory dovetailed sleep patrol would cauterize extorted swoons with lasered pinpoint straps of tippling’s exegetical numbness, piled in frozen autonomy, nominally fencing with epaulette mechanics for tendencies unknown to solvent junkies everywhere from hauled-catch miniskirts to lexical interment.

Nubian bellicosity wrapped tensile occasion grist in floating pillbox satyrs, passing sooty auditory mavens, hovering just above melting; pointed exclusionary billets daubed behind the midnight hearing’s foolishly pomaded croupiers on parole from seditious highland prayers.

A Thousand Weeks of Scenery

Children run in cowboy boots beyond empathic high school floors to hospital selection beeps and busty business sendoff screams of pardoned immunology.

Cousins swipe a Texan Mafioso in durable daylight, continuity pumping imprisoned gunslingers for leap years. Pleas denote the slackened gaze of passing pedestrian threads, shared by yesterday.

Somehow privileged wallflowers march to detuned martyr sauce, arms locked, boots alighting lachrymose and parried territorial in setting honey melt.

Fortune shilly-shallies into noontime lean of frozen facial focal length to fill a caustic factoid, hoping for songs. Blue eruption conversations bite in character for stone devotion marrow lines, feeding the exploding pen a thousand weeks of scenery.

poem || Brandon Theis

Would Care66

Whittledman churned up the valleys of frozen corpses, pitchforks skewed harshly into spines, reburied and once freed, forgotten civil warrants of the matter sworn. For never ago, the born stand up, sleep in the air, breathing and beating wings, a flutter instance, captive, shattered. Evolved on pollutant crisps, snorting the essence of a patched saint lust, crushed crusties panting progressive passion parades, form mounts, painless dissolved, a kindred swooning.

One thousand bricked captives hover ethereal, tourniquet etiquette, pedals of the reaping harmonic: wrath of the warrior's charter, clingy ships sailing over timeless envelope habitat. Frequency chamber chattering on and on in patterns, ever so compulsorily. Pulses happen and pauses cause the love of loss that oft doth trout doubt, grief, river, sleep, traffic.

Common clause causality conquers casual waif station placation, hump swamping to trudge lumpy grout fixation: fountains of gore tridents spout steak speakers, loud pride violence filaments bubble a pickled kind of kindness.

Whittledman climbs the craft, warbles some immutable peach compassion, blinds the death gambler, finds bones in the trite and fumbled batch router. The time crimes go all eschew, sidelined by the power class, crass and disturbed, ever after laughter, emotive stutter clutter, a status gone adrift, he spoons the earthbound battleship sanctions.

Monday, January 11, 2016

poem || Lawrence Upton

A tyrant speaks

nothing is careless
availability the centre

it occurred to drift
shift in overlap

though it may not otherwise
allow you to go

to produce something exposes
its self
without arrangement

i am interested still
after all this time
next year earliest

i am imagining you
but maybe that blocks your availability

the visual etc would be possible
the beauty of the past in the present
my only thing

i might just encourage people
to use words
contain inclusion

the centres of writing

crossing into words
clarity exposes somewhere

me one of words
all of the surroundings
so irritated by boundaries

one point now beginning
not reproducible
i am fairly happy with all without changing

the moment without preparation
the voices brief
doing extended
the remains of an artist doing there

the original i imagine
now of negation
language i am thinking
photos working musically

how close are we
texts claustrophobic
pull in the present

2 poems || Joe Milford


giant plastic tub of beef jerky on the counter as cashier talks about seeing Tom Petty live once.
burning sage over the burned down house seemed strange to me but she said it must need be.
in the closet, old ruddy bespeckled arms began to extend from the sleeves of shirts and jackets.
between two powerlines on the left side of the road the huge spiderwebs proudly glistened.
i could kill someone with innocence and i could introduce violence. this is how fruits ripen.
deprive everything of oxygen. watch the world panic. deprive everything of Christmas lights.
i inherited Lucregia Borgia. shot it until the muzzle melted and destroyed a national treasure.
evil squaw of a neighbor called animal control on us. we adorned the bottle tree for protection.
in the woods behind the homestead the mound of the old railroad wound like a serpent-god.
the bleached dog's skull rests atop the occult text on the black poetry bookshelf, a black tower.


i was full of ergophobia whittling mermaids from cedar and balsa on a porch amidst the cosmos.
we lost the leavining, sold out the reckoning; we wished for prudence and gave away to sea salt.
i have found that writing in the morning makes the herb garden flourish. i have found salience.
most of the evil of this place was the fact it was once an ocean. appalachian chains underwater.
landlord calls from his deerstand to check in. the heating unit died. saw my breath in the kitchen.
telemetry made this possible. shrooms made this possible. skunk brew made this possible. alms.
all you had to know about murder was that the wedding ring was found atop the compost heap.
red Georgia clay like the flesh of the earth asking me to make men and women from it. O glory.
my grandpa called them laundry bags. his parachutes over Germany with artillery. good man.
they found something unspeakable in a cave near my home. the government showed up. damn.

poem || John Pursch

Rockaway Farragut

Morning in another timeline, pasting columnar antipodes to bubble-gripped stellar interiors to hefty laudanum impact creator stereoscopes, producing sad effects on plight bowlers, sifting timed travelers for pocketed loose-leaf change contraption pastimes, chugging troubled sex-pack abs of deeper filling tooth compunction in mistaken roulette pecan philanderer to neuroscience glow regard, aboard encephalic arrogation pitcher wag refusal peat to streamlined slipper instep health to smiling mantle majesty of purity in alienated brood of ingot bread line winnowing to chafed appellate choir, sagging dryly on effulgent cocktail scrounger croon to cobbled elfin troubadour of doorstop tower locomotion.

Crowned the Queeg of Music Equine Pachyderm Equation Quake, she peels another slayer freely felt in pool hull itch petard ahoy carousal cry of “Hands low to chest-band self-projection carrying kitsch of blown parietal emancipation creed,” done to pallor-proven poop tick policies by spinning lunar core dapples of traceries of angle buckets filled to brimstone poplar britches, brewing gowned homeostatic phone papyrus welts in dime store favorite dosage quartz of Rockaway Farragut Cations of Ninety Novitiate Newsstand Promos, snapped every hour on the pouring grain’s flowering yeast in seaboard flecks of carbine haste or chaste recusal paraffin to stolid proxy orca krill.

“Bark at foggy bantamweights slowly, bilious believer,” bricks the balustrade of Beluga Bulova Bollocks, bolted serenely to bulkhead baseboard bread casket shingles of icy power movements in erstwhile mentality to inguinal repair.

Sutures glom and cavitate in surface tension stencil bait, forking fools for every utter bear of polar chord or dinette bladder folio when spliced reactive nougat thoughts emerge to challenge irreligious bonsai swords to scrape away patina healing.

Crime plies wan and dirty gray down sweaty shirtsleeve indoor arctic druggist storyteller cone to molded collocation grip, quizzing classical conductors in stupefied oration gauge of hovering clover.