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May 2, 2017 / barton smock

a spider, worried

this cloud from a father’s mouth
before it is ruined
by some kid
who’s learned
recently

her shapes
and not

to smoke

May 2, 2017 / barton smock

{other. ly.}

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~

some recent poems:

[otherhood (i)]

loneliness the born artifact of my father’s rented dream. god the hobby of replaced machines. forgiveness the eldest stowaway and mistress of the seasick hologram. the monster you became to attain formlessness. mom a rabbit. her dying frog. hunger erased by what it loves.

~

[otherhood (ii)]

it is not real, of course

the trailer park
on fire, the accepted

field-

wheelchairs
crossing
without us

~

[form]

a creatureless forest
in the minds
of men
with shovels; a field.

/ birth outgrew its crooked coat

~

[conception]

lost
like you
my memory
twice

~

[ballerina]

dog whistle, nothing’s church-bell:

my mother, handcuffed

still worships
wasp

~

[we got our hands on some fingerprints and did not feel poor]

the invisible man’s ghost, them polaroids

of sister’s
feet…

dream differently, microphone

~

[god and time are the same age]

a child, an oven

how both
distract
touch

~

[god is silent in every language]

mom is driving. mom is washing the spider that closed her mouth. sister has a stick of gum but says she doesn’t. dad is half-asleep and cutting the fingernails of the babies he dropped. there’s a scab on my arm that looks like my brother’s nose. we pass church after church. sound horn for buried bees.

May 2, 2017 / barton smock

reading and writing

which one of us did loneliness hear coming?

May 1, 2017 / barton smock

dead child

the future
the past
both are ready

to talk

May 1, 2017 / barton smock

late poem

one can only write so long
about loss
in pencil

find my house,
dog-on-fire

May 1, 2017 / barton smock

in the past I am describing god to my attacker

I don’t take good care of things.

I can’t even give you
examples.

April 30, 2017 / barton smock

the blank

does nothing
in hell
but draw

April 30, 2017 / barton smock

reflect, time, on what you’ve done

the insomniac
the conductor
of the sleepwalker’s
train

the centipede
a sort of
wrecked
spider

bunny-eared
watersnakes…

god
took all
my mom’s
ideas

April 28, 2017 / barton smock

films for headcase

i.

amnesia
the perfume
of a dead
ghost

ii.

sleepwalkers
for a more
christ-like

hand signal

iii.

blue hound at a pilot’s grave

April 28, 2017 / barton smock

snakes are made of nothing

I don’t know why it is that this thing in my father merely comes loose when in me it disappears, but am grateful that my mother can hear him getting ready for church no matter the rattling of my hunger at the weepy shapelessness of spoons.