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April 23, 2024 / barton smock

password machine

in this photograph
of god
killing god

that no one
took

how many children

live
to guess
April 22, 2024 / barton smock

words toward K. Iver’s ‘Short Film Starring My Beloved’s Red Bronco’ (Milkweed Editions 2023)

Short Film Starring My Beloved’s Red Bronco
K. Iver
Milkweed Editions 2023

K.Iver’s Short Film Starring My Beloved’s Red Bronco is a vivifying work of the wrecked and the revisited. The world here ends might it outlast, or at least timestamp, revelation. Identity has two ghosts that meet in their sleep. I don’t know what I remember. Iver’s annotated amnesia is long on imagination, and has the memory of grief, and the verse distills both into tactile divinations and paused pleas. What singing. What an unmarred chorus culled from an embodied body so uncalled from its de-miracled angel. It's a collection to behold. And one that heartbreakingly withstands the withheld.

~

reflection by Barton Smock
April 22, 2024 / barton smock

I think I can’t speak for everyone here, reading series, April 28th with Tom Snarsky and Darren C. Demaree

HUGE Thanks to writers NC Smock and Benjamin Niespodziany for reading yesterday at the first of the I think I can't speak for everyone here reading series. Had a blast. Thanks to all who attended and to all who took part in the open mic.

The SECOND of the reading series will be held over Zoom on Sunday, April 28th, at 3pm EST.

Featured writers will be Tom Snarsky and Darren C. Demaree.

Please email bluejawedsnake@gmail.com for the Zoom link and to sign-up for the open mic.

Darren C. Demaree is the author of twenty-one poetry collections, most recently “in defense of the goat as it continues to wander towards the certain doom of the cliff”, (April Gloaming, February 2024). He is the recipient of a Greater Columbus Arts Council Grant, an Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Award, the Louise Bogan Award from Trio House Press, and the Nancy Dew Taylor Award from Emrys Journal. He is the Editor-in-Chief of the Best of the Net Anthology and the Managing Editor of Ovenbird Poetry. He is currently working in the Columbus Metropolitan Library system.

Tom Snarsky is the author of the chapbooks Threshold (Another New Calligraphy) & Complete Sentences (Broken Sleep Books), as well as the full-length collections Light-Up Swan and Reclaimed Water (both from Ornithopter Press). His book A Letter From The Mountain & Other Poems is forthcoming from Animal Heart Press in 2025, and the title poem is available to read on Metatron Press’s GLYPHÖRIA platform. He lives in the mountains of northwestern Virginia with his wife Kristi and their cats. You can find him on Twitter, Instagram, & Bluesky @tomsnarsky.

All upcoming events as of today:

Sunday April 28th, 3pm EST, featured: Tom Snarsky and Darren C Demaree
Saturday May 18th, 4pm EST, featured: Nadia Arioli and Jay Besemer
Sunday May 19th, 3pm EST, featured: Pamela Kesling and Bee Morris
Sunday May 26th, 3pm EST, featured: Dylan Krieger and Alina Stefanescu
(no events will be held in June)
April 21, 2024 / barton smock

canary machine

God wanted to leave a mark.
A mark. Not a god-
sized
mark.

I thought poetry would keep me from writing.

I do everything without my body.

I was pulled
from a sound
my mother
couldn’t make.

The longer the waiting
the faster
the aftermath.

Your kid is dead and was seen
dead
by thousands.

How many
likes
make
a past-

Pick up a gun
or scream
I’ll find you
April 18, 2024 / barton smock

god the canary of nothing

I take my pulse three times
before I know
what I’m doing
April 18, 2024 / barton smock

untitled

here
to be
deleted
birth
is not
consent
(breathing
is the only
meal)
the resurrected
finish
April 17, 2024 / barton smock

words toward Maria Hardin’s ‘cute girls watch when i eat aether’ (Action Books, 2024)

cute girls watch when I eat aether
Maria Hardin
Action Books, 2024

~

Self-shrugging through retouched harm, Maria Hardin’s cute girls watch when I eat aether tongues its verse across a scratched fossil of care and brushes the shrinking hair of its homegrown language in a mirror that keeps color as the grey fetish of the omnisad. Worry and magic, here, are two shops left by separate aggressive vacancies to the mind of the same fought-over shoplifter. Both online and in-hand, both paused afterlife and gasping search engine, it asks us to go skin-to-skin in a mini-museum of penetralia where I was, you were, moved. What a still stilling work.

~

reflection by Barton Smock
April 17, 2024 / barton smock

untitled

not in the baby
nor baby’s
machine

to tenderly drown
in movement’s
dream
April 17, 2024 / barton smock

hospital machine

You can know everything
and die
forever.

Don’t worry.

Hate the ocean
close to god.
April 17, 2024 / barton smock

god the canary of nothing

Loneliness had its own grief
but the future
moved

I drank and it wasn’t poetry

I drank and it was
nostalgia
a ghost
perversion
of sleep

Children know their bodies will kill them