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March 3, 2017 / barton smock

{have visual}

RECENT poems:

[no meaning]

give death a sign. pumpkin seeds to the weatherman holding his throat. nostalgia a reason to ejaculate. a gas mask to goliath.


[after the poem]

the point
was to describe
to the image.

to go
in sleep
from bear
to bombed



“you are the secret watching the private act”
– from Citi, by RA Washington

ruins are for playing tricks on the past and god is the mugshot newborns love. hand is smaller than the hand it knows of. I am here for the nudes of the amateur basilisk. look at me when I exist.


[abuse in the museums of afterthought]

you’re not small enough to be alone in the world.

old ghost-brain
gets a bike.


[entries from the wreckage]

as a word, plot seems artificially unaware of its absence from a book of baby names.

online, abandonment needs a vacation.


comes home to a punching bag in a treehouse. to a breathing machine being fixed by a marsupial. to a son talking himself down from cooking-show fatigue. to a clockmaker’s lab rat

putting a spell
on a boat.



alerts god
I’m not



free mail shipping or 50% off ground shipping at Lulu with coupon code of SHIPMAR50

one of my more recent, {eating the animal back to life, 316 pages, July 2015}, is here:

of which Kazim Ali says:

Speaking of being captivated, when I was in Cleveland’s most exciting new independent bookstore, Guide to Kulchur, I picked up on a whim a few small volumes that appeared to have been published by the author using Lulu. I was so entranced by the seemingly simple but endlessly complex, prickly lyrics that I wrote to the author, Barton Smock, through his blog, He’s been sending me books now and then and his latest, Eating the Animal Back to Life, is just knocking me out. These poems are desperate, tender, wry, alarmed, god-obsessed, and musically driven. Smock is not published by others, he does it all himself and so the only place you can get his books is here. All the advanced degrees and publishing credentials in the world can’t get you the unspeakable duende that Smock somehow taps into, poem after poem.



ALSO, some recent reviews of, and/or reflections on, others:

Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib, The Crown Ain’t Worth Much (Button Poetry/Exploding Pinecone Press 2016)

Sarah Marcus, They Were Bears (Sundress Publications 2017)

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