E
Jan/Feb 2001

e c l e c t i c a   p o e t r y

Poetry


 

Five Poems
Your daddy is split
peas, soup no-one eats,
shattered hems
of your baby's dress.

Tara Brever

 

Two Poems
The smell of your sweat
is like washing your name in sand,
sprinkled on my alter of trashy gods.

Alison Daniel

 

Working Land
No, it's not paradise
Though I can see why you might think so
Here in the easy October light

Cy Dillon

 

Two Poems
Grief, my new lover,
puts me to bed at night
and wakes me in the morning.

Sarah Freeborn

 

Scribbles from 52nd and LaVouge
I knew this girl who lived
in a theater. I slept with her
sometimes.

Mario Gonzales

 

Two Poems
Among the rows of shamed, naked peasants,
In the leer of the executioners,
Aloft in the sex chemistry of black boots,
I left my uncertain body.

John Hanson

 

Two Poems
The soft spots on old lemons. The accusations.
The old wooden picking ladder. The broken bone.
The sting of citrus. Original feelings.

Larry Hirshberg

 

Three Poems
Clingstone, yielding against teeth
like pores to breeze.
Velvet, all rose and spring green

D. Ting Ho

 

Two Poems
Observe, how it holds
the sea; salt fish, loaves
that multiply,
all that you could need.

Annette Marie Hyder

 

The Virgin's Man
For three nights the virgin's man dreamed of oysters:
cracked open and splayed,
sea-foamed, quivering beneath his fork.

Nicole Jackson

 

Urban Romeo
looking back
at the streets I once knew
the slivering
concrete arms
of a past
dead lover

Mike Kemp

 

Acid with Michael Stipe: Athens Geo. 1986
and you think what I want to do with the rest
Of my life is not this, and you depart to your Athens hotel,
Shaking his clammy and oblivious hand

Kevin McGowin

 

Johnson is Navaho
He uses me for my Ford,
trips to town for laundry,
six packs.

Sean McKim

 

Two Poems
I should kill those kids downstairs
the ones who wake me up every morning
two hours before
I have to be up.

Jessie Miller

 

Peter and Leah
She said he's a nowhere man, going nowhere fast
He said he's already there and wants it to last

Dan Moyer

 

Blue Notebook
I plan to record everything;
the smell of the hotel,
the way our winter clothes
will hang down, heavy

Tasha

 

A Hundred Children
Tell me about your sunshine
and the sounds of coffee
and of barefeet pounding the earthen floor

Sam Vaknin

 

Knight On Horseback, statue sculpted 1987, in the Hofstra Commons, summer
Their nearness to battle is apparent,
with horse's jaw twisted,
front hooves flashing forward,
with knight looking askance

Frank Van Zant

 

Her Story in Parts
Her mother's hair
was still caught
in the tines-
weak yellow thread
too thin for a healthy
person's head.

Annie Woodford

 

Bandit's Epitaph
It's easy for you to say
I was a gunman and an outlaw!

Alessio Zanelli

 

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