Archive for February, 2012

That Look by Norma Jean Demaggio

Posted in Norma Jean Demaggio with tags on February 26, 2012 by Scot

I catch your eye as we both walk down the street,
going the opposite way from each other.
Oh I know that look well,
you are thinking of us tangled
in the sheets, sweaty and tired.
I think we should keep our shoes on when we fuck
so we can both run away afterwards
Or how about leaving our clothes on so the getaway
is that much quicker, for you see I already feel
the disappointment and lonely setting in
Or we could just skip this all together
and keep going on our separate ways
All this goes through my mind in a flash
as I lower my eyes and move on past

kerouac’s cock

Posted in Scot Young with tags , on February 26, 2012 by Scot

is way cool
in san francisco
it is not on the road but
jumping backyard fences
in the mission

it was seen perched
way up high
doing the beat

the hip daddy-o
is gonesville
maybe he is makin the scene
somewhere down the road

–scot young

Dewitt Smith Responds to His Ex-Wife’s Question of Do you miss me? by Curtis Dunlap

Posted in Curtis Dunlap with tags on February 26, 2012 by Scot

I don’t miss the stench
that greeted me at the door
after a day at work,
the dog shit and piss
accumulating gnats
I waved away
from my wine glass,
or my pleas
for you
to help me clean our home
while you slyly managed
to find something else
to do.

I don’t miss your touch
when you wanted sex,
or the way I cringed
when you tried to
woo me
into your filthy bed
I abandoned
a decade ago.

I don’t miss your cooking.
Pouring a jar
of store-bought Alfredo Sauce
over hamburger and noodles
does not constitute
a home cooked meal.

I don’t miss the way
you sat at the computer
chatting-up an
affair into the wee hours,
your fingers rapidly tapping
a cipher
of family deconstruction,
or your negligence
toward our children,
the ball games you missed,
your reply of “Go ask your father!”
when one of our children wanted
to fix them something to eat while
I studied for a test
or worked on a paper
for school.

I don’t miss having
to makes excuses for you
when your boss called
wanting to know
why you missed work.

I don’t miss your indifference,
the way you sat at the computer
with your back to me
when I told you
I was leaving,
or how quickly
I became
a Facebook status.


Log out by Virginie Colline

Posted in Virginie Colline with tags on February 26, 2012 by Scot

Dear Winter,
This cold is not right for us.
We wish you the best of luck
placing your mishmash elsewhere.


The Sad Flight of the Boy from Tuberculosis Ward by Jay Coral

Posted in Jay Coral with tags on February 26, 2012 by Scot

the boy with the weak chest
is whipped by the cold wind
he coughs but he tells himself
he will not lie back
he will talk to the nurse with
the buxom breast and clean lung
he will tell her the secrets of the turnips
and other crops under the damp earth
it will be no mystery, the organic
budding of love’s carbon from within
and elements conquered by resolved
she will feign interest out of nicety and
though the pea particle in her brain will sleep
he has flamboyance in his breath
to waste, he has nothing to lose
no shame on a chemistry being upturned
the dry ditch in his lung will catch
the muddy circles around her depthless eyes.

sometimes sundays are for remembering those that came before……. todd moore, scott wannberg, & hugh fox

Posted in Uncategorized on February 12, 2012 by Scot

Scott Wannberg

Posted in Scott Wannberg, VIDEOS with tags on February 12, 2012 by Scot

Hugh Fox

Posted in Hugh Fox, Uncategorized with tags on February 12, 2012 by Scot

Futuring by Hugh Fox
–Posted  on July 5, 2010

Empty out the earth,
balanced weightwise between
solarity and outer nothingness
(until we find another sun), laptop
library, books?, walking down the
text-messaging dog-walk streets,
turning my living room into Iraq,
Chicago, wrestling time, and
keep looking at those (billions)
stocks as long as they are
(no touch with real realities)
still stockable.

todd moore

Posted in Todd Moore with tags on February 12, 2012 by Scot

when the

its legs
had been
shot off
it lay
on its
side in
the long
night of
& began
to tell
stories from
back in
the eyes

–Todd Moore

call for submissions

Posted in Uncategorized on February 11, 2012 by Scot

Submit poems for a special issue about or in the tradition of Richard Brautigan…








(sketch by fn wright)