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November 3, 2020 / barton smock

blood notes

I can tell by my arm that I am not always there when they burn my cigarette.

Abortion. Tire Swing.

I don’t know all seven stages of staying warm in Ohio.

Loneliness changes often the name of its creator.

November 2, 2020 / barton smock

from ( diets of the resurrected )

Ohio handcuffs:

two poor people
trading facts
about circles

October 30, 2020 / barton smock

your mother bends to kiss a pillow for sleeping with your stomach

perhaps you know
it already
that when jesus
got to heaven
he was still
part human

October 29, 2020 / barton smock

( older desperations from which much has been removed. including titles

~

the quiet woman mothers a silence gone rogue

and names
her kid
to death

~

pull from your habit forming past. be the bomb god’s yet to wear. eat from the angel’s dream the only fish that can stop at nothing. open your mouth

then look at your son. call it photography. if spotted, be a monster.

~

I am not god but I do have insomnia. mother can do in her madness what most can in sleep. father hollers at a soldier suffering from memory gain.

~

I throw baby brother’s rattle over a moving tank.

count for the dead
their black
sheep.

~

the baby was found, after the fire, alive and well in the oven. god showed his face until, again, the world made him hungry. at the time, the painter of babies was a baby herself. her brother had been dropped long ago by a man reaching for a foul ball. the sweet tooth’s bible was putting blood on a napkin.

you want grief that is a seashell of grief.

~

October 27, 2020 / barton smock

from ( diets of the resurrected )

to preserve
our obsession
with longing

this mark
death makes
on god

October 26, 2020 / barton smock

blood notes

I no longer sleep on my right side because it feels as if I’m too far from the earth that stopped my heart.

God
will do it

but you’ve got to give him a bone from the body of an angel.

I pretend to be sick because I believe that I am.

October 26, 2020 / barton smock

blood notes

God still doesn’t know how long dying takes.

Red
says to blue: Every mirror is a door if you have an apple.

I’ve never been the first creature to eat my young.

I’d keep you alive
but miss
your ghost.

October 22, 2020 / barton smock

2016) fixed work, or broken

swallowing a hair in the house that birth built

she reaches into the same hat for the rabbit he’s made disappear.

I sleep and the dark takes me for the bone

lightning
straightens.

(can’t
this once
a thing
die
in the sanctuary
of its double

October 21, 2020 / barton smock

{ unfinished gameshow fires }

barton smock's avatarkingsoftrain

from poem Gameshow Fatalities, in book Ghost Arson (Kung Fu Treachery Press, 2018)

~

if interested in reviewing, contact me at ghostarson@gmail.com

book is 15.00 / orders for signed copies can be made via paypal to ghostarson@gmail.com or by using link:

PayPal.Me/ghostarson

or via Venmo: @Barton-Smock-1

*be sure to include your address in the notes field

or one can send a check to:

Barton Smock
5155 Hatfield Drive
Columbus, OH 43232

~

REVIEWS:

Dd. Spungin

George Salis

~

interview by Crystal Stone for Flyway Journal

~

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October 21, 2020 / barton smock

sleep interrupts the wrong past

A swimmer doing a handstand. A wrist from the world of dolls. An Ohio squirrel sharpening a baby’s tooth. Doom as it strokes thunder’s hair. Vandals protecting the dreams of one beached whale. The earaches that learn of my son whenever my knees touch. The suicide recorded by the longest god.