(I know by cobweb)
the childbearing age
of a ghost, that dream
has taken
mirror, and also
that I cannot reopen
the mouth
my mouth
erased
memory (my
mother’s)
of personal
space
thru November 27th, Lulu is offering 40% off all print books with coupon code of CYBER40
my newest is:
{everything I touch remembers being my hand} / poems
172 pages, 9.00
/ as always, will send free PDF of the work to anyone requesting. also free hard copy to anyone interested in writing a review. such requests can be made to bartonsmock@yahoo.com
// book preview on site is book in its entirety
/
selections from {everything I touch remembers being my hand}
[from ~ we brought home the wrong dying baby ~]
I ain’t been talked to in so long my wife’s kid thinks I have amnesia. ain’t been touched since Ohio’s ramshackle symbolism swallowed up some organ donor’s shadow. I went yesterday to a funeral for a woman’s ear. told people what I was wearing was a bedsheet belonged to the man in the moon. told myself I had this microscope could see a ghost and that I’ve only ever lost an empty house. I don’t know how old I am but I know what year I want it to be. before dying I saw it flash how I should have died. low creature. tugboat.
~~~
father an optometrist inspecting a replica of a totem pole and mother an eel collapsing at the thought of a play performed in a stone.
and there, at the bottom of grief, a cup of dirt with nothing to bury.
/
[from ~ in this life another is you ~]
water, make your fist. hold your breath
in a single
fish.
/
[from ~ food ~]
how to bathe
a red chameleon
from the childhood
of Moses
~~~
books to step on, scarecrows
to kiss.
animal
a thing left speechless.
night
a lost
suitcase.
the apple, the quiet. brother’s
double
nodding off
on library’s
secret
horse.
door songs.
mother, mother, father-
/
[from ~ soft facts ~]
body
like some use an alias. fingerprints
manna
for hand.
–
I was dreaming I guess
in the face of brevity
–
of god’s glassrabbit ocean
/
also, please check out and consider submitting to {isacoustic*}, here: https://isacoustic.wordpress.com/
work on site so far:
four poems by person Adam Hughes:
four poems by person Jon Cone:
*** also on site are reviews by myself of books by Sarah Marcus, Ruth Awad, Darren C Demaree, and Kaveh Akbar
the lamp
eating
its bowl
of light
in the name of all things unfixable, have a new self-published full length collection {everything I touch remembers being my hand} available somewhere below. some of it was partially and formerly a private thing called {so sang} but I wasn’t happy with the layout. if you have it in its former shape, my apologies for directing you there.
as always, will send free PDF of the work to anyone requesting. also free hard copy to anyone interested in writing a review. such requests can be made to bartonsmock@yahoo.com
also, thru November 26th, Lulu is offering 30% off all print books with coupon code of LULU30
~
everything I touch remembers being my hand / poems
172 pages, 9.00
can I miss
my body
with yours
our blood
the loneliest
bone
i.
to be called forth
from nothing
how perfect
/ no melancholy
is fair
to insect
ii.
would that we could be separated
later
by birth
that we might enjoy
shape
/ the darkness of being remembered
Lulu is offering 30% off all print books thru Nov 26th with coupon code of LULU30. my newest is {L A I T Y}
poems from collection {L A I T Y}:
[having a disabled child]
means:
there is a tent
being studied
by dream.
missing
more than snow
the ashes
of snow.
footwear. and checking
our food
for holes.
means keeping
dry
a diver’s
eyelash. and leaving
to finish
absence.
~
[tenderness]
it is there
in the way
my father
refolds
a single
grocery bag
for a cyclops
that never
arrives
~
{we brought home the wrong dying baby}*partial
onstage a dog barks at an empty stroller. the mosh pit is weak. last count had three pregnant, three resembling the man who unplugged my father, and two praying for the inner life of a hole. onstage a boy is holding up a kite for another boy to punch. dog’s been tased.
–
sickness in the young is god’s way of preventing nostalgia from becoming the god I remember
–
I was beautiful…
View original post 40 more words
I am from the future (I miss
you) there is a way
to contort
the body
and deepen
scarecrows (my son
has an illness)
I’ve seen
in pictures
