Archive for November, 2013

FRACK JACK I DON’T CARE O’WHACK by Paul Corman Roberts

Posted in Paul Corman Roberts with tags on November 7, 2013 by Scot

The desolation to Damascus
paved with do-gooder campaigning
begins at compacted concrete
evidence & public opinion
historical foundations laid down

over
proven demograscapes
over
the past ten years
& promising
to never indulge
our vices again
except
in the cold
cold rain.

Whatever you stand for God’s sake
please make sure the hipsters
can’t use that shit against you
should keep plenty preoccupied
with unoccupation & headstrong fumes of consumer ether.

Let them frack
your soul
your conscience
for the price of a map
which leads
to another map
which leads
to another map
ad infinitum
cause believe me:

In America nothing commodifies faster
than the journey nothing more undesirable
than the destination
a can to keep kicking down
the good-intention super highway.

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She Adores Me by RD Armstrong

Posted in RD Armstrong with tags on November 7, 2013 by Scot

Over dinner
the woman I have
been slowly
falling in love
with for al
most 20 years
tells me
“I adore you.”

It hangs in the air
as time slows to
a crawl and I
roll it around
in my head
as if it is an idea
that I want desperately to
but can’t embrace.

I have waited so long
to hear those words
that I don’t quite
understand them
as if I have been
so preoccupied with
wanting to hear this
message that when it
comes I’m not ready
to understand it.

Something seems to be missing
as if there’s a big unspoken
BUT floating in that pause
that pregnant moment
after waiting so many years
for her to say that magic
phrase I adore you seems
incomplete and I am caught
off guard and don’t know what
to say in response.

And of course the big BUT
floats down to the table top
and opens like a great big lotus flower
and it says to me BUT I don’t love you
I hope you understand

And time just kinda stops for a
second or two while I digest this
and position a soft sardonic smile
on my face and say SURE that’s
okay we’re still friends right?
I’m trying really hard not
to let her see how much
this is hurting me – how
those three words
the ones that I have
longed to hear for
so long and are now
breaking my heart.

I got to remember to
move this item from
my bucket list to my
fuck it list…

Old Man Poems by Tim Peeler

Posted in Tim Peeler with tags on November 7, 2013 by Scot

I’m throwing back all the fish,
the retarded kid from my fifth grade class
who stank and wore black rimmed glasses
taped where they were broken over his nose,
the fifth grade girls who unzipped their dresses
and flashed their panties
when Mrs. Hager went outside for a smoke,
the shell shocked boy who rocked in his desk
and could not speak
when the home room teacher called the roll,
the owl-faced child-woman who taught us
that the Civil War was not fought over slavery,
flat-topped Mr. Cool Algebra who paddled
the black boys unmercifully for flirting with
white girls so we could hear each thwack
echo down the cement block hallway,
the black ninth grade football star
who bulllied the seventh graders
till they gave him their lunch money
and later became a career policeman,
all the cross-eyed freckle faced kids
in their too-short Sears catalog dungarees
who were terrorized in their trailer park homes,
in their spare the rod, spoil the child churches,
and at their mean street mill hill schools.
I’m throwing back all my fish
into the river that squeezes through dam locks
and rushes over granite rocks
racing toward the sea.

for d.a. levy by bradley mason hamlin

Posted in Bradley Mason Hamlin with tags on November 7, 2013 by Scot

reading your mind now
telepathic ghost message
don’t tell the police.

chinatown jazz by scot young

Posted in Scot Young with tags on November 7, 2013 by Scot

sax man blows
slow note jazz
corner of kearny
& california
bubbles up like
a slo-gin fizz
in a hip pocket
flask
sun glasses
lowered
case open
catches loose change
from tourists
walking too fast
to feel
the jazzman’s
wail
that wraps the walls
of old st.mary’s

(SPACE) TRAIN HOME by Marc Olmsted

Posted in Marc Olmsted with tags on November 7, 2013 by Scot

30ish guy reads a glowing comic book
on his electron tablet =
Marvel Comics superheroes of my youth
here with zombie eyes
and ravenous skull mouths
some apocalyptic disease
from outer space

Lennie Haiku by Virginie Colline

Posted in Virginie Colline with tags on November 7, 2013 by Scot

Fat-of-land story
George tells about the rabbits
again and again