SHE IS, I AM
She is the kiss
and I am midnight
she is the silence
and I am Leonard Cohen’s last waltz
she is the nail
and I the empty chamber
she is the fish
and I am scaled to bone
she is the door
and I the unlocked
she is the floor
and I am still learning how to fall
she is the salt
and I am ordering take-away
she is the start
and I am stumbling to the finish
she is she is she is
I am I am I am
she is the heat
and I the smoke detector
she is the leaf
and I am winter
she is the switch
and I am sitting with mushrooms
she is the art
and I the finger paint of children
she is the appetite
and I the empty bowl
she is the paper
and I am out of ink
she is the sound
and I ring the door bell five times
she is the ready mother
and I the sudden father
she is she is she is
I am I am I am
she is
I am
David Stavanger
http://www.myspace.com/davidstavanger
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Far - Emma K Osborne
Far
You traced flowers with
Ballpoints
Shone a six-ton smile
Right at me
Then flicked back - far-eyed.
Emma K Osborne
http://verbatehim.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/verb-ate-him-issue-one1.pdf
You traced flowers with
Ballpoints
Shone a six-ton smile
Right at me
Then flicked back - far-eyed.
Emma K Osborne
http://verbatehim.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/verb-ate-him-issue-one1.pdf
Monday, May 18, 2009
Start: One Evening in 1923 - Janine Baker
Start: One Evening in 1923
His start -
unremarkable -
barefoot street cricket
after floggings by The Brothers;
pudding on Sundays
and sly grog at the Palais
His journey -
unending -
from dodging Gyppo street girls
during shore leave in the Med
to jumping trains near Wagga
to escape the Army Provo’s
His contest -
unaccompanied -
through two continents
three wives, four kids spread wide
(could be a score more)
a dozen ships and
still no sign of contentment
His race -
unwon -
past maritime disasters
and that husband with a gun;
unfinished pictures; pulped novels (still unsold);
searching for a truth that’s not worth knowing…
His gravestone could read:
Tried it All (Once)
Failed
Kept Going
http://www.jackmagazine.com/credits.html
His start -
unremarkable -
barefoot street cricket
after floggings by The Brothers;
pudding on Sundays
and sly grog at the Palais
His journey -
unending -
from dodging Gyppo street girls
during shore leave in the Med
to jumping trains near Wagga
to escape the Army Provo’s
His contest -
unaccompanied -
through two continents
three wives, four kids spread wide
(could be a score more)
a dozen ships and
still no sign of contentment
His race -
unwon -
past maritime disasters
and that husband with a gun;
unfinished pictures; pulped novels (still unsold);
searching for a truth that’s not worth knowing…
His gravestone could read:
Tried it All (Once)
Failed
Kept Going
http://www.jackmagazine.com/credits.html
Monday, May 11, 2009
Alice perdu - Jamie Brown
Alice perdu
I can’t help thinking about
Alice, and her pretty white
dress, as she slips through
the television screen. The
strangers she meets there
measure out their lives in
coke spoons and cigarettes,
Beemers, bigger houses, and
who has the newest rattle.
The glowing phosphorescence
of her face as she says she
would rather stay on that
side of the glass, content
to have the rabbit for
dinner in burgundy sauce.
Jamie Brown
from 'Conventional Heresies'
http://smallpressreviews.wordpress.com/2009/03/25/conventional-heresies-a-quick-chat-with-poet-jamie-brown/
I can’t help thinking about
Alice, and her pretty white
dress, as she slips through
the television screen. The
strangers she meets there
measure out their lives in
coke spoons and cigarettes,
Beemers, bigger houses, and
who has the newest rattle.
The glowing phosphorescence
of her face as she says she
would rather stay on that
side of the glass, content
to have the rabbit for
dinner in burgundy sauce.
Jamie Brown
from 'Conventional Heresies'
http://smallpressreviews.wordpress.com/2009/03/25/conventional-heresies-a-quick-chat-with-poet-jamie-brown/
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