I have two new poems published with Lyre Lyre for their Back to the Future issue. One, “Thank God,” was originally published by Boston Poetry Magazine, so many thanks to them for allowing the reprint. The other piece is a favorite of mine that I had been trying to get published for many months now. I owe much gratitude to Jillian Brall and Greg Crosby for this opportunity, and I hope you will take the time to check out my work. Let me know if anything resonates with you!
The Ofi Press has been gracious enough to share two of my poems in their latest issue. I am thrilled to be a part of it, and I hope you enjoy these pieces. Very warm thanks to Jack Little for taking a risk on my work. Leave me a comment if you like the poems!
Five of my poems have been made available, with audio, at The Poetry Storehouse, for remix and video projects. Many thanks to Nic Sebastian for letting me take part in this awesome and unique opportunity. I think you’ll find my reading of “Noir, or imitating Tom Waits” quite humorous.
I entered Cultured Vultures “Poem of the Week” contest last week. My poem “Six months without sex” placed second, with first place going to Jennifer Hudgens. You can find the poem here. Thanks to the editors and the publication for the opportunity. I have also shared the piece below, as the site shares it center justified without stanza breaks. It appears here as intended.
Six months without sex
You start finding the cheating bones
in your own body. They’re shaped
like cochlear shells, spirals built
on the Fibonacci sequence,
made to fit under the ribs like spurs
so every breath hurts
until the heart is numb as a tree trunk,
though we know now that plants too feel pain.
Memory becomes an internet browsing history,
persistently erased with sleep and routine,
a sound of ice creaking in temperature change.
Someone’s always working late,
always crawling into bed with a smell like smoke
on their skin, in their hair, like they’ve roasted
on a spit spinning in someone else’s loins.
It’s a paranoia of losing what’s known,
the familiarity of touch and sound
that builds itself into a nest of bed springs
and lost earrings. You tiptoe around it,
as if it’s a sleeping lion with blood on its teeth,
when it’s only a hummingbird of wants,
grown too heavy to hum, sad eyes you refuse to meet.
It’s awkward, relearning how to fly,
how to kiss your wife’s face,
how to wake up with her scent
on your hands, pelvis bruised
from breaking the ice
formed around your wings.
When DEATH comes to claim a writer
~ for Terry Pratchett
In the leaves, someone plays a fugue,
the Writer asks them to stop, it’s distracting
from a scene in which a wizard
pulls an ocean out of his throat.
But the music continues to swell,
drowning out his thoughts
until the ocean goes slipshod,
spilling off the page,
and Death appears saying, “SEE,
I TOLD YOU THIS DAY WOULD COME.”
The Writer laughs, “Look at this water,
it’s ruining my notebooks,
the memoirs of my life reduced
to soggy wafers of smeared ink!
How funny, I’m drowning in words.”
The ocean spews forth in waves,
his home now a gulf
riddled with furniture and floating books,
swollen like fish in the sun. He smiles
and grabs a couch cushion.
“WORRY NOT, YOUR WORDS
WILL LIVE ON WITHOUT YOU,
YOUR NAME WILL BE SPOKEN
FOR GENERATIONS TO COME.”
“I’ve done it then, I’ve found the secret
to eternal life. But why does it feel
like the opposite? And where is my hat?”
Water pours from the windows
like faucets or exploding eyes,
the lights get wet and flicker and fade,
soon the waters grow still, still rising,
pushing the Writer and Death
within inches of the ceiling,
pulled by an unnameable tide.
The Writer says, “I just thought,
I would have more time.”
“THE THING ABOUT TIME
IS IT DOESN’T EXIST,
TAKE MY HAND AND I’LL SHOW YOU.”
But he hesitates, arms floundering
in the deep darkness, splashing.
Until his hand happens across
something familiar and folded,
drifting in the current like a forgotten wish.
The characters that have gathered
let go of the breath they were holding.
He pulls the dripping hat onto his head
and says, “Okay, I’m ready.”
James Penha at New Verse News has done me another great honor in sharing a poem of mine that I wrote about Alabama recently subverting the Federal Supreme Court’s ruling that gays had the right to marry. They decided to go rogue and keep denying these people marriage licenses. It is a sad time to be an American. The poem is titled “Alabama attempts to stand still” and you can find it here. Please, comment with your thoughts, if you feel so inclined. Thanks for taking the time to read. If you enjoy it, share it.
The kind people over at Novel Masters asked me to send them a few poems, and they were generous enough to share them with the world. You can read them here. Special thanks to Christopher Gretkus. Check out these poems and let me know your thoughts.
Thanks for checking in. Had another lucky break with my latest series of political response poems and Boston Poetry Magazine accepted and published six of them. One of these, my poem dedicated to Brittany Maynard, is very close to my heart, and it had been looking for a home for quite some time. Another, “Soy un ganador,” I wrote in the style of the Beck song “Loser” in response to Kanye saying he didn’t deserve the award. If you check out these pieces, please let me know what you think of them. Much gratitude and many thanks to Mike Jewett for taking a chance on my work.
Today, Revolution John has published five of my new poems, four of which are response poems to recent events. One of these pieces, “This poem is a picture of the prophet Muhammad” responds to the recent terror attack in Paris and is dedicated to the Charlie Hebdo publication that was attacked. This poem should come with a “blasphemy warning,” meaning you shouldn’t read it if you know blasphemy upsets you. Another of these pieces is about Taylor Swift, and I hope she doesn’t try to sue me, or Sheldon Compton, the editor of the journal. I send much gratitude and admiration to Sheldon for taking a chance on my work and sharing it with the world. This is my second time in this magazine.
New Verse News has accepted another of my topical poems. This one is about the Jordanian pilot that recently lost his life due to the extremists who call themselves ISIS. I thank James Penha for giving me another opportunity and sharing my work with the world. You can find the poem, “A man burned alive is reincarnated as a firefighter” here. I hope you enjoy it and thank you for supporting poetry.