{isacoustic*} volume second is now available, here:
http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/isacoustic-volume-second/paperback/product-23543831.html
the book preview on site is the book entire- if you like what you see there, please seek out the work of the authors. buy their books.
~
ISACOUSTIC*
March 2018
volume second
Darren C. Demaree
Eleanor Gray
Heather Minette
Gillian Prew
Billy Burgos
Ion Corcos
Corey Mesler
L. Ward Abel
Alex Hoshor
Sara Moore Wagner
Tara Isabel Zambrano
Rae Hoffman Jager
Caroline Plasket
Sophia Naz
Heather Knox
Marisol Baca
Yesenia Montilla
RA Washington
~
site: https://isacoustic.wordpress.com
facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/Isacoustic-192435501303710/
twitter: https://twitter.com/isacousticVOL?lang=en
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.
https://isacoustic.wordpress.com/
Jon Cone
BLOOD
My mind blooms
outside the pawn
shop window.
I am struck
dumb by knives
in their morgue
-like brilliance.
All I want is good
blade, an edge.
Some cool
distance from
my life, this sleet,
this rust, my shoes
that flicker like
sour flames
at the end
at the end of
the weird alley
where blood
goes to clot.
/
more:
~
Adam Hughes
REUNION
Sometimes the line between friend
and familiar is inconvenient.
I hugged him and felt his willow bones
growing out of my own roots,
exiting my skin. His bloodshot
voice echoed through me
like a windchime made from discarded
amulets, broken teacups, and the teeth
of ancient birds. After he left
I lit the altar on which we offered
our second fruits to keep ourselves warm
and sang along with the flames—
a song so hideously sacred.
/
buy Deep Cries Out to Deep:
~
Sara Moore Wagner
A WAKING IMAGE, AS GRETEL
The rain spills in on us as we sleep
in the backyard, tented. My brother wakes
with a face cotton-soft, button-eyed, cuts
into me as our grandmother
does the most bruised tomatoes.
Says run, but we wait:
sloshing, mermaiding, our hair
and the flowers, the candy
wrappers flood into the yard,
vine. When our father opens
the trailer door he is naked,
his eyes rusted, and we are so wet.
When our father opens
the door he is naked
and will not let us in:
A heavy sigh from the heavy
bed. An uneasy dryness like light.
I remember emptiness, the look of skin,
and so much pillowing rain. My brother, still
a face: The only.
/
buy Hooked Through:
https://five-oaks-press.com/2017/03/17/hooked-through-sara-wagner/
~
Rae Hoffman Jager
CIVIC DUTY
I wake up at 6am and drink coffee in front of the TV,
watch the latest shooting unfold,
panic in HiDef.
I start my car, go to Red Cross. They hook me up—
one needle in each limb, one in my neck.
Drain me dry, sorrow machine,
until I have nothing left.
The heroes among us
are sucking their thumbs,
not again. Here I go,
rubbing the sheets raw
in my sleep while I practice
running away
and not towards.
/
buy One Throne:
his wife
is stuffing
animal
after animal
each one
more visible
to god
than the last-
he is naked, students
are drawing
his face
RA Washington has three poems at ~ isacoustic* ~
i.
self-care
as told
by grief
is a failure
of the imagination
ii.
in Ohio, a child
looking for a nail
opens
a drawer, finds
iii.
jesus
entered a baby
no less
than twice
i.
belongs, perhaps
this kite
to a murdered
boy
ii.
of all the clothes on the line, they took the doll’s
iii.
mom, in cursive, writes:
we poked it
with a stick
the hand
in the river
and troubles
began
i.
grave
is to ghost story
what spoon
is to fork
ii.
(things we remember about god)
iii.
his burnt tongue. his owl soup.
