Thursday, January 31, 2019
Bradley Mason Hamlin writes
Brad’s Monster
Do you
believe
in preternatural
possession?
believe
in preternatural
possession?
Some
thing
from the outside
that gets
inside
Maybe
or maybe
mostly
humans have
only one foot
out of the cave
thing
from the outside
that gets
inside
Maybe
or maybe
mostly
humans have
only one foot
out of the cave
The beast
there, waiting
for a trigger
bang
there, waiting
for a trigger
bang
Slowly
you turn your head
‘round
you turn your head
‘round
Toward
that sound
those words
a scent
a raised eyebrow
that sound
those words
a scent
a raised eyebrow
Snap,
the growling
howling
quick to kill
heartbeats
the growling
howling
quick to kill
heartbeats
Of the human.
Jeremy Toombs writes
I say a day is
a day,
busy or still.
Between sunrises
do ten
thousand things.
Do nothing.
Do sit.
All the same.
Bit of shit.
Bit of shine.
Hang the
washing on the line.
Willie playing
“Blue Eyes.”
I sleep well
for being tired.
I wake well
for having slept.
A tooth hurts.
Sun slips down
the street
through autumn leaves.
Hanging Laundry -- Jeffrey T. Larson
Gert Knop writes and shoots
Lost Love
Past memories
broken in the fog of presence.
A gem lost,
now worn by someone else.
broken in the fog of presence.
A gem lost,
now worn by someone else.
A letter hit like an arrow.
Words, heartbroken,
love buried
in another world
Words, heartbroken,
love buried
in another world
A voice
drowned in tears,
images return
as in a dream
drowned in tears,
images return
as in a dream
Shared experiences,
unforgotten,
hope died
like brittle branches
unforgotten,
hope died
like brittle branches
Love lost
in a fading chime.
Solitude obscures
the silence
in a fading chime.
Solitude obscures
the silence
Words on the phone
without echoes.
Melancholy melts away
in grief
without echoes.
Melancholy melts away
in grief
Shabir Ahmad writes
DALI DREAMS OF
JOSEPH K.
In the elastic
time of plastic memory
Desperate
fingers hang melting watches
From the
branches of fruit-lorn trees
Marking
evanescence in a universe
That refuses to
stand on its only leg
But instead
tumbles, falls, rolls down
All the way to
apathia, athambia, aphasia
In which all
the pleas, all the prayers
Are reduced to
the stammer of a radio
Out of station
or a bee buzzing around
A pomegranate
with Tigers caught
Roaring
mid-air, helplessly before the Law
Whose parable
is lost on the only one
It was meant to
serve while he roams
And rages and
rebels and riles and then
With a head on
a block dies, "Like a dog!"
Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War) -- Salvador Dalí
The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory -- Salvador Dalí
Franz Kafka -- Jaroslav Rona