my angel is a scarecrow in a sleeping bag. heaven a movie theater in spain. she walks that way because she is trying to step on her blood. the boy at the gate is lost and must choose either frankenstein’s childhood or a more diverse nostalgia. orphans on earth smell like bread.
god’s brain in a small hat
–
(rabbit)
–
from surgeries
and gardens
–
a crownless mouth
website: https://isacoustic.wordpress.com/
contact/submit: isacousticsubmissions@gmail.com
if interested in being interviewed, or having a chapbook or book reviewed, send inquiry to same submission email
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if donating, you can note the name of a contributor and the money will go to said contributor
~~~
MAP )
CONTRIBUTORS:
Jon Cone
and the heart-ache
that occupies the land is yours alone in hope. – {from} YOU ARE NOT LATE, IT IS ONLY THE PRELUDE THAT PLAYS
/
Adam Hughes
Tonight the fugitive gods limp
away, – {from} Kemper Street Hymns
//
Leanne Drapeau
the body broken,
poured out. – {from} love has all its teeth intact
///
Agnieszka Mauch
I can’t
move my arms enough to create a
notion of the sea – {from} FURTHER DISRUPTIONS
////
Amelia…
View original post 164 more words
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
faith a shoelace in an unbroken egg
I stare at the letter x
excited by absence, I ask the poem to tell me
what it’s run
out of.
infants. forgeries. satanic lamps.
/ poetry
the redistribution
of poverty
website: https://isacoustic.wordpress.com/
contact/submit: isacousticsubmissions@gmail.com
if interested in being interviewed, or having a chapbook or book reviewed, send inquiry to same submission email
facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/Isacoustic-192435501303710/
paypal donation link: https://www.paypal.me/BartonSmock
if donating, you can note the name of a contributor and the money will go to said contributor
~~~
MAP )
CONTRIBUTORS:
Jon Cone
and the heart-ache
that occupies the land is yours alone in hope. – {from} YOU ARE NOT LATE, IT IS ONLY THE PRELUDE THAT PLAYS
/
Adam Hughes
Tonight the fugitive gods limp
away, – {from} Kemper Street Hymns
//
Leanne Drapeau
the body broken,
poured out. – {from} love has all its teeth intact
///
Agnieszka Mauch
I can’t
move my arms enough to create a
notion of the sea – {from} FURTHER DISRUPTIONS
////
Amelia Kester
I will find
the soft people – {from} BLACKBERRIES
/////
Brian Dawson
…sway against forgotten statues
until all that is left is the sibilance of old secrets. – {from} Nine
//////
Ed Churchouse
…mute blue comma,
w/ tiny, turned off
fullstop eyes,
you force
me caesura early
in the walking
home from work. – {from} Dead Bird
///////
Jill Chan
I haven’t thought of the day.
I am only in it. – {from} Dew Light
~
REVIEWS:
of They Were Bears by Sarah Marcus:
of Set To Music A Wildfire by Ruth Awad:
of Calling A Wolf A Wolf by Kaveh Akbar:
of Many Full Hands Applauding Inelegantly by Darren C Demaree:
Many Full Hands Applauding Inelegantly – poems – Darren C Demaree
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
as if waiting
for you
to hallucinate
it is there
the sea
–
eating secrets in a dream
is the owl
with hands
–
I think we buried
darkness
wrong
kingsoftrain 