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February 8, 2022 / barton smock

etc

private publications (pay what you want):

Animal Masks On the Floor of the Ocean, 124 pages
poems, June 2019
can be purchased via paypal (bartsmock@gmail.com)
or Venmo @Barton-Smock-1
or CashApp $BartonSmock

MOTHERLINGS, 52 pages
poems, June 2019
can be purchased via paypal (bartsmock@gmail.com)
or Venmo @Barton-Smock-1
or CashApp $BartonSmock

an old idea one had of stars, 58 pages
poems, February 2020
can be purchased via paypal (bartsmock@gmail.com)
or Venmo @Barton-Smock-1
or CashApp $BartonSmock

rocks have the softest shadows, 237 pages
poems, Dec 2020
can be purchased via paypal (bartsmock@gmail.com)
or Venmo: @Barton-Smock-1
or CashApp: $BartonSmock

untouched in the capital of soon, 187 pages
poems, Sept 2021
can be purchased via paypal (bartsmock@gmail.com)
or Venmo: @Barton-Smock-1
or CashApp: $BartonSmock


*be sure to include your mailing address in the comments of the order. any questions can be directed to bartonsmock@yahoo.com

~

other praise:

The work of Barton Smock, a prolific mid-western poet, modifies the meaning of Christian Wiman’s idea in that it seeks unceasingly for the spaces between those ‘annihilative silence[s]’ that would pursue us, and for the watchful reader opens some door into human experience in a way that is at once intensely personal and detached. Through the manipulation of both common and cerebral language Smock’s poems maintain a dance between the familiar and the unspeakable. They act as a shout to the silences that curl up in experience- offering some view from the inside of that experience, but never in an expected way.

…The themes of family, abuse, poverty, and alienation figure heavily in the book, but to call this confessional poetry seems a bit out of keeping with what is traditionally considered confessional. He speaks of mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers while also utilizing the first person, but the reader can never be exactly sure who these characters are. They are changeable, and often engaging in nearly surreal activity that might confuse more than enlighten. The key seems to be finding some language to quantify suffering, or some way of qualifying experience out of context - which at moments brings it ever more sharply into sight…

…Smock has found a way to speak for those who don’t perhaps know that they have something important to say; to share. The marginalized child, the grieving mother, the ailing child or sibling- they will all find a voice here, and though it might not be the way they would voice the affliction that rests within them, they are sure to recognize their faces. Whether this is a burden or a blessing remains a judgment to be formed by the individual reader, but I find the poetry...to be full of the intensity of experience in a way that I can’t help but identify and empathize. Something preserved so as not to be forgotten, and perhaps repeated.

~Emma Hall

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, kingsoftrain.wordpress.com. 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...

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. 

~Kazim Ali, from

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/harriet/2015/11/reading-list-november-2015

February 4, 2022 / barton smock

partings

in a movie untouched by movies a mother not known for any child is visited by a doll on leave from its scarecrow-loving scarecrow no longer held by figure as a gift from the department of shape 
February 3, 2022 / barton smock

2017 unfixed

MAGIC PILLS

a doll taped to a skateboard. you get the idea. mirror for doghouse, nest for traffic light.

/

ANIMALS OF DECEMBER

I know a kid of mine won’t walk the impossible dog. I know it deep down. arsonist first, birdwatcher second. drone to stork and stork to mermaid. I feel your pain.    

/

CODA

thunderstorms
reported missing
by some
verbose
orphan

/

SLEEP

as proof of shyness.  as death 

rounded down

/

BRING SPOON

kid says
they eat
hypnosis
the extras

of silent 
film

/

BRING ROACH

how long might satellites mourn? sickness took the lord. a scarecrow the pulse of a cricket.  

not every image was worth the effort.

/

AGONAL

the wolf in stork’s nightmare
speaks dolphin

what do I miss

my blood
your collection
of pea-sized

pillows

/

IN NO LANGUAGE

does echo
have a word
for dream

/

MODEL

the ugliness 
of horse
corrected
by deer
February 3, 2022 / barton smock

puzzles one can keep from god

A shadow puts its hand through a tent

Ice
hides Ohio
from hell
February 2, 2022 / barton smock

first poem about design

Unheard window

Infant's doorbell
February 1, 2022 / barton smock

first poem about sleep

an unreal child

its masterless jaw
& invisible fast
January 31, 2022 / barton smock

ghostalgia xiii

I am small asking if I can bring some snow with me into the bathtub & someone starts to say no but because we're outside nothing gets finished & later to my mom someone explains how frostbite has been using our handwriting for suicide notes & pain in its unfound egg is drawing its take on pain 
January 30, 2022 / barton smock

partials,

Grief is that sibling who's tired all the time but still moves a pill from friend to friend while believing that if you watch a movie before anyone else then the sex scenes are real. Our version of musical chairs has us adding 

a chair. I don't get hungry. No one 
wins the baby.
January 29, 2022 / barton smock

ghostalgia xii

In the dream that my brother calls his haircut dream, I have a tail I'm not allowed to touch. I tell him no haircut has ever taken this long. I tell him that god wanted more kids. I am trying to make him laugh, or pray. Far mice are eating the noise from your wrist.
January 27, 2022 / barton smock

iv. (response poems for Benjamin Niespodziany

Body language being kept alive in a ghost town.

Wind's missing child 
can't get sick.