Archive for February, 2009
Saturday, February 28th, 2009
“The Loss of Lemons” by Chrys Tobey
Chrys Tobey
THE LOSS OF LEMONS
A woman had lemons in her head. It’s not that she wanted to make lemonade. She simply had lemons in her head. She could feel them in her head the same way she could feel a star dying. The woman insisted on getting an MRI. She wanted to see X-rays of [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Friday, February 27th, 2009
“The Lover of Stone” by J.R. Solonche
J.R. Solonche
THE LOVER OF STONE
The lover of stone must be old,
for there is no such thing as a young stone.
The lover of stone must be strong,
for he must be able to climb up the mountain
and the summit of the mountain
to find the beginning of stone.
And he must be able to climb down
the mountain again to [...]
1 Comment » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Thursday, February 26th, 2009
“LOOKING AT A PHOTOGRAPH FROM WAR TIME…” by Timothy David Shea
Timothy David Shea
LOOKING AT A PHOTOGRAPH FROMWAR TIME
I WILL BE THE NEXT HIT BY FIRE
There is the one with his boot sole propped on a frame of sandbags, and the
one holding a baseball glove,
lips puckered in conversation. There is the lucky one on one knee [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Tim
Wednesday, February 25th, 2009
ALSO IN ARCADIA by Andrew Mulvania
Review by Ted Gilley
ALSO IN ARCADIA
by Andrew Mulvania
Backwaters Press
3502 North 52nd St.
Omaha, NE 68104-3506
ISBN 978-0-9816936-3-7
2008, 67 pp., $16.00
http://thebackwaterspress.com/
Andrew Mulvania’s present-day Arcadia lies in the southern part of the United States, just as the Arcadia of legend lay, similarly isolated, in the Peloponnesus of Greece. Rural Missouri, while less remote, nevertheless qualifies as the kind of [...]
2 Comments » - Posted in E-Reviews by Megan
Tuesday, February 24th, 2009
“Sonnets to Orpheus: Part 2 #13″ by Rainer Maria Rilke
Rainer Maria Rilke
SONNETS TO ORPHEUS: PART 2 #13
Anticipate each goodbye, as if it were
already behind you like a winter that’s passed.
Because underneath these winters is such an interminable
winter, that only by hibernating can your heart survive.
Always be dead in Eurydice—climb out the way a singer climbs,
in a voice rich with loss and celebration of that [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Monday, February 23rd, 2009
“Demolition Derby” by Sherman Pearl
Sherman Pearl
DEMOLITION DERBY
There’s an innocence in these surrogate
battles between cars—all the bodies
are fortified to withstand the crashes,
all the doomed are made of metal.
Aggressors seem to comfort their victims,
backing away almost ruefully
after smashing them into nightmare
versions of the showroom beauties
they’d been. There is grace
in how the hulks accept fate, how still
they stand, hoods sprung open
as signs [...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Sunday, February 22nd, 2009
“Every Drunk Has a Passport” by Jason Nemec
Jason Nemec
EVERY DRUNK HAS A PASSPORT
Here they come, stumbling down the sidewalk two by two,
masses of hammered college kids puked out of the bars
on the Tennessee Street strip after last call. And it’s not the sight
of them that gets to me as I stand in my boxer shorts watching
their bumbling migration from the balcony of my apartment;
it’s the sound as I’m yearning to sleep off the iron-legged stress
of a hard-fought double at the restaurant, the fuck yous
yelled at the top of smoked-through lungs, the punches
itching to be thrown, revving up in the glamour boys’
well-exercised beer muscles, the shrill come-ons screaming
from deep in the exposed chests of scores of girls who received
their breasts as high school graduation presents, Whoo! and Yeah-uh!
cutting through the night air overtop the off-tempo
rhythm of high heels on asphalt. If I had to pick a mascot from
the entire mad cacophony to represent this species born unto me
at 2 A.M. and set to die off by 2:30 every Thursday through Saturday,
it would have to be this beanpole of a kid scarecrowed between
his two buddies, his spiky, standard-issue-fraternity-brother hair
pointing straight head, his feet fumbling out of order, but his mouth
still working just fine—he’s shouting I’m drunk! over and over
as though the entire planet not only cared, but also failed to hear him
those first twelve times. I wince, not just because of how obnoxious
I’m Drunk is acting, but because his un-tucked, pale blue oxford
is just like one of my favorite shirts from back when I was in college,
and I realize that I’ve been I’m Drunk, I’ve been the guy
who’s so plowed he needs to be carried out of the bar. My 21st
birthday saw me, in that shirt, beneath the high ceiling of Panini’s
[...]
No Comments » - Posted in Poems by Tim
Saturday, February 21st, 2009
“Repairman” by Dave Morrison
Dave Morrison
REPAIRMAN
The parents had called him to
take a look at their twelve-year-old,
Mikey, because the school had said
that unless something was done he could
not ride the bus anymore. He’s asleep? asked
the Repairman. The father nodded, Yes, he
sleeps like a log. The Repairman gently removed
the top of the sleeping boy’s head and
attached the wires to the video [...]
5 Comments » - Posted in Poems by Megan
Friday, February 20th, 2009
WAKING STONE by Carole Simmons Oles
Review by Brian Spears
WAKING STONE
by Carole Simmons Oles
The University of Arkansas Press
201 Ozark Avenue
Fayetteville AR 72701
ISBN 1-55728-825-9
2006, 99 pp., $16.00
www.uapress.com
When I was in my first year of the MFA program at the University of Arkansas, the visiting poet Dave Smith said of one of my poems, “That’s an Arkansas title.” He explained to me that [...]
1 Comment » - Posted in E-Reviews by Megan
Thursday, February 19th, 2009
“On Attending a High School Graduation” by Joe Mills
Joe Mills
ON ATTENDING A HIGH SCHOOL GRADUATION
Looking at them
clustered together
in their black robes,
waiting for their names
to be called,
waiting to become
more distinct
versions of themselves,
I whisper véraison
and if it makes you
uncomfortable to consider
these boys and girls
in terms of ripeness,
the fullness of fruit
waiting to be picked,
that’s understandable,
because after all,
if we’re honest,
there’s always something
slightly unnerving
about walking a vineyard
and casting [...]
