made available some PDFs of my work, as well as the first volume of isacoustic*, at:
CONTRIBUTORS for {isacoustic*} volume first:
Jon Cone
/
Adam Hughes
//
Leanne Drapeau
///
Agnieszka Mauch
////
Amelia Kester
/////
Brian Dawson
//////
Ed Churchouse
///////
Jill Chan
/////////
Arvind Joshi
/////////
Gayle McCreery
//////////
Robert Okaji
///////////
Kelli Allen
////////////
Daniel Paul Marshall
/////////////
Charlotte Hamrick
//////////////
Nicholas Christian
////////////////
Tim Miller
/////////////////
VOLUME FIRST: http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/isacoustic-volume-first/paperback/product-23484069.html
~
recent contributors at {isacoustic*}:
Darren C Demaree
//////////////////
Eleanor Gray
a found grief in these eggs that scar the pan
–
moon
gives mom
a toothache
–
if you can, bed hunger.
that sleepy
mirror…
–
not news
to your double
my death
the clock’s grandfathered amnesia, this thing I did, that someone saw enough to say.
book has a new link:
https://www.dinkpress.com/store/infant-cinema-barton-smock-dp2
++++How do we face a world where our experiences and their impacts do not hold the necessary weight? Having read the poetry of Barton Smock for a few years now, this is a question I find myself repeating each time I return to his works. My own poetry has been shaped by experience and the shapes that response takes, so when I discovered Barton’s work, I was (selfishly) most interested in discovering someone speaking in the same language. Barton is a poet who self-publishes several collections a year. The subject matter seems to press itself into the fabric of daily life in the same way as time itself- creating a space that keeps moving away against our will. I understand this, and appreciate the dedication it takes to keep up the momentum that allows for such expulsion of energy through language. Seeking a way out of the mind to…
View original post 959 more words
a tongueless form eats from the psalm of your shape. I say birth
you say
assault. we are code
maybe
for embed. our mother pawns
the paw
in her stomach
hoping to afford an impression
of the hand
that created
hands.
I have prayed to a cautious god.
i.
brother
while slicing
an apple
changes
his name
to earshot
ii.
an orange eats everything
but its mask. there was no ocean
iii.
until we hid from the storm. ticks are crickets
iv.
that belong to the poor
means, today:
the weight of a wheelchair / no bush on fire
thru January 25th, 20% off all print books AND free mail shipping (or 50% off ground) at Lulu with coupon code of SHIPSAVE20
mine, self-published, are here:
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/acolyteroad
~~~~
some recent writings:
[ideations]
the elderly
our unpraised
orphans
with healed
and self-taught
toys
~~~~
cancer is a pop gun and when I say missing I mean her body was seen by the lonely / her body / was having children but only those / we’d seen / in photos / I mean bus
of a christian
swim team
~~~~
when cooking, mama says she is burning the uniform of the country I was dragged through. she knows better than to come from rib. cheek, maybe. or fishhook.
~~~~
scar to my wound, this man believes in god. the last thing I learn is what I know. Franz Wright’s final book is called The Toy Throne. I understand this man when he says he was born with a disabled child. what is lightning
to a fish
~~~~
faith a shoelace in an unbroken egg
I stare at the letter x
~~~~
the plate
in god’s head
is a writer’s
dream. she crows
her three
words
for stoplight
as a doll
bites down
on a stick…
math is maybe not the best look for grief
and hunger
too academic
~~~~
after suicide, everything that happens is the past
~~~~
I am not a ghost,
hand
I use
the least
~~~~
the mothers they were rehearsing in the drive-thru
the sex talk for boys they thought
were still
alive
–
crush a white tick / you’ll become / a projectionist
–
sleep is a bleeding stopped by the eye
~~~~
with god
prepared
to remove
its white
stomach, the dream
sees brain
as the print
of its thumbless
hand
~~~~
/ to a breathing machine in a swimming pool
the angel says whale
/ my nightmare
has a whale. it takes grief
from a mule
/ my brothers are porn
and star. claustrophobes
haunting
the hard
to forgive
~
[bee pain]
all of your mother’s paintings have two names. father with cigarette or jesus
meet ghost.
–
four pounds / of my birth / were missing
~
[bee pain]
a pregnancy, a grief, a photographer
of rapture themed fashion shows…
this increase
in childhood. her wolf
raised
by astronauts
