Q: what is a ghost?
A: you have a mom and god finds out
Serving
poems, Kari Gunter-Seymour
Crisis Chronicles, 2018
‘A lone bird pecks
at some once-seeded thing. ‘ – from Six Months Into Your Second Deployment
I don’t know that I should start here, but will anyway, and will add my wife when I say that my son’s disorder is just the current name of the first nobody to tell us he was sick. I start here because this is where I am after reading Kari Gunter-Seymour’s gutting and sentient Serving, the narrator of which breaks bread and waits for distance to lose its warmth all the while employing a verse that enters the fog of ache on an empty stomach and proffers hunger as a photograph snapped by a child devoured by others. Here, place begins as the coordinates of one with nowhere to be and ends as an else-less language so new it has no word for return…
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thru August 13th, Lulu is offering free mail shipping or 50% off ground with coupon code of SHIPIT2018
poetry collections, mine, self-published, are here: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/acolyteroad
mine, self-published, are here:
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/acolyteroad
~
some recent poems:
[cigarette gospel]
on a stage
in a beaten
field
a man
new to walking
is opening
with his hands
the belly
of a shark
that’s eaten
by word of mouth
a local
priest
whose fingernails
miss teeth
like an angel
~
[bowl and psalm]
his inner monologue made of water.
a pill
in a drop
of rain.
a rabbit on a leash. a dead bird
in a woman’s hat.
wind.
my eye for my other
oh town
of Ark.
~
[untitled]
I vandalize the outside of a church in a city designed by men with bad teeth and there I mistake a drop of blood for a penny and begin to last forever
~
[the men of left field] for brother Noah
I think / in a past / life / my sense / of touch / was yours
–
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Natasha Kochicheril Moni is a 2018 Jack Straw Writer and the author of four poetry collections (The Cardiologist’s Daughter, Two Sylvias Press, 2014; Lay Down Your Fleece, Shirt Pocket Press, 2017; Nearly, Dancing Girl Press, 2018; A Nation (Imagined), winner of the 2018 Floating Bridge Press chapbook competition, forthcoming). http://www.natashamoni.com/
~
When Asked What You Know About Grief, You Remind Me
of me—that I don’t believe in umbrellas
or eggs or beets or anything
that could pass for an egg,
an umbrella, a beet.
You tell me there is a meadow beyond
the fence over there and how it disappeared
your dog—but that fence is falling,
has been in a perpetual state
of suspension since you and I have—
and you are allergic to fur.
You are in the middle of an omelet
without ketchup, only because there isn’t,
and you tell me grief is…
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poverty has its own alphabet. we speak only to expand our understanding of what came second, be it silence or the ventriloquy of god. no one here has lost a baby but there are enough of us to go around. I’ve nowhere to tell you about place.
Heather Minette’s HALF LIGHT released by {isacoustic*}
release announcement:
https://isacoustic.com/2018/06/15/heather-minettes-half-light-release-announcement/
review by George Salis:
https://isacoustic.com/2018/06/20/a-review-of-heather-minettes-half-light-by-george-salis/
review by Sara Moore Wagner:
https://isacoustic.com/2018/06/18/sara-moore-wagners-review-of-heather-minettes-half-light/
review by Crystal Stone:
https://isacoustic.com/2018/07/09/a-review-by-crystal-stone-of-heather-minettes-half-light/
*
Half Light on goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40533588-half-light?from_search=true
*
for purchase:
from Barnes and Noble
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/half-light-heather-minette/1128985743?ean=9781387874200
from Amazon
if told by your hands to set myself on fire, I would pray my father into a snake and death would cry in a whale for every bee that lost its voice.
an aversion to sleeping on my stomach. needing to be alone after eating in front of people. my father asking in the library for books on Nagasaki. field trips to indian mounds where bullies would worship my retainer and put mud in my mouth. my permissive mother and her essays on the grief of a social god. not understanding how in some films there were women speaking on what was heard in the distance and how in others just men sitting around to surprise satan. my brother threatening to run away and me showing him how my ghost would look breaking his toys. sticks from a dogless future.
the voice of god is the light by which a cricket kills its ghost. grief the chosen dress of our no-show photographer.
kingsoftrain 