We take one newborn from every search party. Loss isn’t a word, but can’t be replaced.
so I did this really long rather awkward reading from my last two self-publications but I do mean what I say or at least what one can hear of it: hard copies available, PAY WHAT YOU WANT: untouched in the capital of soon, 187 pages poems, Sept 2021 can be purchased via paypal (bartsmock@gmail.com) or Venmo: @Barton-Smock-2 or CashApp: $BartonSmock blood to bathe us in its blue past, 217 pages poems new and selected, May 2022 can be purchased via paypal (bartsmock@gmail.com) or Venmo: @Barton-Smock-2 or CashApp: $BartonSmock PDFs at GUMROAD
Ghost and angel keeping between them their inside joke about bare feet. Glass brainstorming itself into a mirror. The tooth fairy losing a paper cut to god’s last baby. The job, home from nothing.
there the devil shoeless on the plastic horse the sand still here it couldn't eat
Beside a sandcastle a gutted jack-in-the-box goes godwild on being awestruck when lonely
i. A bowling alley just before we know it’s on fire ii. Owl sounds like All in my brother’s mouth iii. sorry, there is not a crow there is just this Ohio building this orange music animals in boxes able to breathe
My son’s invisible art vanishes after I get there. Still, his distracted knives and remembered skulls hand me back the back of my hand. I pray in attics over nothing. His mirror faster than mine.
Brother uses the same doll for surgery that he does for tea. It doesn’t save time, but we’re poor.
God is at every funeral disguised as god the ghost death couldn’t keep
kingsoftrain 