from ghost-written diaries
a constant identity
late
for its own
resurrection
my stories go nowhere.
god
and his tree
of hunger
two ears
at once
her wounded
boy
–
sleep has one god
absence, none
–
the cough
he had
the week
he was missing
clown car
too much
for ghost
these names, before you were born. colorblind orphan, yawnless fish. ghost with calendar.
look at me
when I’m invisible
deep and sincere thanks to all who’ve taken part so far in this small, below, thing:
I have privately published a book titled {in this life another is you} which is a gathering of 50+ unpublished / unavailable / non-displayed poems of mine. I am making it available for 3.00 via paypal (bartsmock@gmail.com). all monies I receive for the book will be sent to a poet friend of mine who was injured while clearing debris for others after Hurricane Irma. books will be shipped on October 13th.
also, through the end of October, any monies I receive from the sales of my self-published books on Lulu will be added to and for same.
my most recent book, {L A I T Y}, is here: http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/l-a-i-t-y/paperback/product-23332280.html
*currently, through 9/28, Lulu is offering a 25% discount on all print books with coupon code of LULU25
I’m sorry you have to see this. if I could starve invisibly, I would. my son’s surgeon worships ventriloquy. do you dream of the sleep you’ve already gotten? or of a thing so sad it gives birth? my abuser talks as if one can lose track of a mouth. in god’s favorite book, my ghost gets a hobby.
a woman
with a handsaw
whose rabbits
dream dove
I can’t write and write at the same time. there are drugs in my father’s shoe and bread crumbs in my sock. sister can sing but says church gives her two left knees. mother squeezes the hand I feel sorry for. ah, sorrow- no bird walks on water and your babies
are all
neck.
bible and the missing
book
of aspirin.
fast food chains.
mourners.
kingsoftrain 