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May 29, 2018 / barton smock


some recent:

[how I want you to remember my sister]

in a puppet show
about washing
my son’s
feet, or waving down

the ice cream truck
with her bible, or

as farewell

to nothing’s
of neither



in how many dreams have you appeared

that were not
at first


in movies

when streetlights go out one by one

I don’t feel



between the house of the first suicide
and the house of the second
there’s one
with a dog door.

the moms all work at the same ghost jail.

the dads say things like

/ finally a parrot I can hear / & / in hell
nobody steps
on their reading

the dream is there we put our mouths on. our hands.
the dream
that was nest.

brothers dressed like jesus
brush their teeth
and sisters
keep a tender


[lawn musics]

books on arson, grammar, vandalism…

god, multiple owners.

a typewriter
touched by father
at night.

the electric chair my brother imagined
& the hair
my sister…

adam (who’s never known the age of eve


[being alone went by so fast]

we have in my city a museum just like this. I, too, am private and have lost an unabsorbed child. I am,

inventory, very motherly.

this one-man radio show about a father looking for his mouth. this tornado.

my first owl was a bee-loving tick. my first milk
was jigsaw

milk. being alone went by so fast.


[cord musics]

there is nothing for the brained cow. still,

you braid the sound of an eye
coming up for air.

hunger has one breast, is a doll
based on a painted toe. at the feast

of the sockless alien
are its babies foot and fall.



with his mother’s purse under his arm
the gatherer
of knocked-out

to the entrance
of a waterpark
the so-called

deer to imagine
a rock



note: thru May 31st, Lulu is offering 15% off all print books with coupon code of FIFTEEN

poetry collections, mine, self-published, are here:



facebook page:

paypal donation link: or to (

*for donations of 5.00 or more, one will receive a privately self-published work of 60 poems by editor Barton Smock called ~mood piece for baby blur~



Peter Twal
person Peter Twal, two poems

I.V. Katen
person I.V. Katen, two poems

reflection on Hannah Cohen’s Bad Anatomy:
Bad Anatomy – poems – Hannah Cohen

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