there’s no great detail to go into. her baby in a medicine cup, our small priest
making us feel poor in the bathroom we don’t use…
–
a face from the world’s flattest mirror
the elderly
our unpraised
orphans
with healed
and self-taught
toys
she has a nest for a heart and takes her meals between confession and acne. death guesses correctly what birth knows. was god made her ghost the color of my teeth.
I’m reading again. sucking
oh the rib
from circle’s dream and yeah
recovering
from the lives
of others
on a train of adopted nostalgia
death was invented by aliens as a memory game meant to persuade god we’re attractive up close. I sometimes have to choose over scalpel a red crayon. mother over snowfall over bodies of ghostless water.
mother and father
pass
back and forth
a bruise
they call
wristwatch
how long
was I drunk
learning curve
of cocoon
it feels wrong to pray in an ambulance
hear god / all the time
call for submissions {isacoustic*}
https://isacoustic.wordpress.com/
THING:
submit no less than [3] and no more than [7] pieces (poems, prose, poetics) to: isacousticsubmissions@gmail.com
/poems can be in the body of the email or attached as PDF, doc, docx
//include a brief and non-clever bio
~
in order to be published, [3] of the poems in the submission must be selected by the editors*
*this applies only to unsolicited submissions
/all three poems will be published in one post
//postings will occur weekly or bi-weekly
~
payment for a selected submission is 15.00 (5.00 per poem)
/payment will be made within one month of the posting
//previously published and simultaneous submissions are okay
///response time is 3 days ///please inquire if that time passes without
////whether rejected or accepted for publication, there is no waiting period for submitting multiple times
~
every three months, the editors will self-publish a journal…
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