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Jul 2016 · 145
weakling
Barton D Smock Jul 2016
it goes to bed hungry
with nothing to show
for the work
its creator
consumed

it learns to read
by talking

its ugliness
is believed
to have put
in the sleepwalker’s
mouth
an extra
tooth

pulled
from your life
of trying
Jul 2016 · 195
{tech}
Barton D Smock Jul 2016
25% off all print books today on Lulu with coupon code of LULU25

~

my most recent self-published (Lulu) works are ‘shuteye in the land of the sacred commoner [& other poems]’ and a compilation publication of my last four works called ‘FOUR’, which kind of gives away the ghost.

please checkout my Lulu author page if interested.

~

some previous poems from my self-published (Lulu) works:

[segue]

the feeling
we’d not
been here
before



doom’s little hiccup



my brother
dead serious
that we pronounce it

hick
gnosis

~

[footfall]

a newborn wants to be a hand.

there’s the dream I have of heaven
and the dream
god lets me
bring.

my boy
has a crow
for a backpack.

~

[domestic inquiries]

the *** of the first person in hell

the number of animals
giving birth
in a field
where emptiness
burns

the logic of
if ax to tree, then scissors
to kite

~

[the explanation]

my brother the mud wrestler wants to know if we’re any closer to finding our father. I examine the droppings and say someone is feeding you in your sleep.

~

[ataraxy]

it’s a bit early
to be
reincarnated

son, this illness

it takes
our death
Jul 2016 · 290
birth
Barton D Smock Jul 2016
I slip with god into a movie about a crying baby  

/ the museum
doesn’t have
a bathroom
Jul 2016 · 164
naked
Barton D Smock Jul 2016
I borrowed a bike from a haunted woman

a frog was asking me
what my mouth
had done

I was bound
for the orphan’s
shortcut
Jul 2016 · 212
attic radio
Barton D Smock Jul 2016
the fattest baby in the nursing home can’t chew with its eyes open.

it’s a slow day.

looking into the future
a skeleton’s
dog
sees only
sticks.

lightning
marks
the robot’s
church.
Jul 2016 · 158
oven songs
Barton D Smock Jul 2016
in my lifetime
the unborn
will be identified
using
the baby
you were warned
by.

the moon will die
and the owl
will stir
something
in a wolf.

a bird will say
not here
not in front
of the eggs.
Jul 2016 · 344
depictions of reentry (xv)
Barton D Smock Jul 2016
I went outside and hid god under a rock then went inside and put a pillow over my brother’s face.  don’t worry, my brother lived and god grew stronger.  in fact, by morning, my mother was so at peace she finished my brother off with a cotton ball.  my dad bought a boat and said the older they are the smaller the mouth.  people came from a mirror called practice.
Jul 2016 · 242
depictions of reentry (xiv)
Barton D Smock Jul 2016
the newborn
yawns, reveals

god
to be
a biter  

-

I don’t
in my sleep
do anything

let alone
impressions

-

it’s hell on an image

the mirror’s
alibi
Barton D Smock Jul 2016
a suicide
from my past,

a surprise
party
for death…

/ if I lose my voice long enough
will they let me
wear
the mask
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
MRI, or the stickman’s

first
snowstorm.

a telephone called depression.

we can no more save
the alien
that died
for jesus

than we can write
the dog-whistle
bible.

I’m sad because I’m circumcised.

the scarecrow
has dreams
of becoming
a surgeon.

I’m no expert on sleep. I’m being followed

by a coat hanger.

ask my hand if it’s true that all the babies had to stay in their mothers to survive.
Jun 2016 · 144
depictions of reentry (xii)
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
mom needs a jar of jelly to call the priest.  try as he might, my brother can’t seem to get his tongue stuck to the oven door.  my hands are here to hide the fact I’m wearing gloves.  dad snaps three pictures before passing out.  the voodoo dolls of my invisible babies have passed each other underground.  I am thinking of things you can do.
Jun 2016 · 139
depictions of reentry (xi)
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
and in dreaming
of what to use
for its body
and its blood

the devil
began

to starve / when it snowed
it snowed

on a tooth / this was in

the same
Ohio

where brothers
ruin
now

with hiccups

games
of hide-and-seek

/ anyway, sister said the crow had it coming

and I made this face we called

god
as a boy
tasting
a star...
Jun 2016 · 457
{dir}
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
35% off all print books on LULU today with coupon code of LULU35

mine books can be found, there.  

~
some recent poems:

[loneliness]

the only
animal
recognized
by the magician’s
one-trick
pony

/ touch
giving itself
a childhood

/ an alien’s
crucifix

~

[liftoff]

the scarecrow loving puppet put a pop gun to the head of the soundman’s lamb.

-

my last meal
was my mother’s
voice.

~

[the cross]

the haunted clock
in tornado’s
house

the weightlifter’s flower

the rabbit’s
bliss

~

[scare]

I know it is nothing

or a relative
of nothing

what mice
make
of a mouse
possessed

/ my distance from the unborn widens

~

[homage]

like some verbally abused parrot

the crow
the phone’s
god

~

[depictions of reentry (iv)]

/ the tadpole torching my stomach in the museum of the heartless alligator

/ the spider the star in suicide’s eye

/ the crow in the devil’s purse

~

[depictions of reentry (v)]

/ you can work here for nine months

/ it’s not like riding a bike
it’s more
like kneeling
in the center
of a stickman’s
nightmare

/ never you mind
the bloated
baby’s
yellow
tooth

/ at least the sick

they confuse
death

~

[depictions of reentry (vi)]

night terror, the handwriting
of imago’s
child…

/ resurrection, a memoir

~

[depictions of reentry (vii)]

/ the hands and the crushed mind they crawl from

/ god of the briefly ugly

/ the homeless child of nostalgia’s native

/ graveyard
our game
of telephone

~

[depictions of reentry (viii)]

we laugh about them now

scarecrows
the stepchildren
of apocalypse…

pregnancy as suicide prevention.

be wowed
by stuff
on earth.

~

[depictions of reentry (ix)]

before I got sick
there was a sound
my mother
could make
and a bird
perched
on the arm
of a snowman…

angels, yeah

some
grab their ears
when trapped

~

[depictions of reentry (x)]

the unlit candle

desertion’s birthday

-

the voice
is not god’s
that experiments
on children

but ask
away

-

the dog we buried
is sometimes
on fire

watched
we think
by our sister’s
cooking
Jun 2016 · 141
loneliness
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
the only
animal
recognized
by the magician’s
one-trick
pony

/ touch
giving itself
a childhood

/ an alien’s
crucifix
Jun 2016 · 187
homage
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
like some verbally abused parrot

the crow
the phone’s
god
Jun 2016 · 149
depictions of reentry (x)
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
the unlit candle

desertion’s birthday

-

the voice
is not god’s
that experiments
on children

but ask
away

-

the dog we buried
is sometimes
on fire

watched
we think
by our sister’s
cooking
Jun 2016 · 226
depictions of reentry (ix)
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
before I got sick
there was a sound
my mother
could make
and a bird
perched
on the arm
of a snowman…

angels, yeah

some
grab their ears
when trapped
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
we laugh about them now

scarecrows
the stepchildren
of apocalypse…

pregnancy as suicide prevention.

be wowed
by stuff
on earth.
Jun 2016 · 114
scare
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
I know it is nothing

or a relative
of nothing

what mice
make
of a mouse
possessed

/ my distance from the unborn widens
Jun 2016 · 230
the cross
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
the haunted clock
in tornado’s
house

the weightlifter’s flower

the rabbit’s
bliss
Jun 2016 · 152
depictions of reentry (vii)
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
/ the hands and the crushed mind they crawl from

/ god of the briefly ugly

/ the homeless child of nostalgia’s native

/ graveyard
our game
of telephone
Jun 2016 · 262
{worn}
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
30% off all print books on Lulu today with coupon code of LULU30

my newest thing is called ‘four’-  it is not a whole creature but a combination of my last four publications.  clever title.  I am sorry it’s 12.00-  I am always sorry.  it is available on Lulu, along with others.

and, some poems, from:

~

(---)

a palm reader
with mouths
to feed
does
my mother’s
nails.  I overhear

I love
babies
but god
they live
so long.

-

my brothers will tell you
I avoid

capitalization

eating
in front of others

threesomes

-

who was it
asked

-

from whose memory were you erased?

~

[warm body]

her nightmare
from the era
of hibernation
revolves around
a baseball
made
by her husband
from the cobwebs
found
soaking
in the mouths
of babes

(mouths)

dry
from dreaming
of the sponge
bathed
by god
in the egg
of a spotless
crow

~

[fathers]

to see a stone
as ruin’s
pursuit
of aftermath

one must share
this dream
  
of arriving
on earth

to pray

~

[prose]

god was created to remember everything. so says the rock to the tooth starting small.

-

there is a gallery of unfinished work and a space for the baby to crawl through.

-

her feet stick out of the mirror she’s been using to give birth.

-

lost: frostbite. lost: space suit.

will work
for feeding
tube.

-

holy asthma
holy

crossbones

-

old hat
this human
head.

~

[black sites]

we indeed
are deaf
from going
****

the floor is writing on the earth

it is better
than having
roaches

childbirth
comes to
in a bat
dying
in a pillowcase
for what
the weeping
flightplan
of a drunk
stork…

what tree cannot reach
mother scratches
with a broom

~

[cries]

we are
each one of us
the smallest
person
on earth

one is never too old
for god, never

too old
to surveil
the deaf

/ I know from your palm
what your hand
will drop, mother

cooks only
meat, father

is every
nightmare
she has
of her exodus

from apologue

/ having populated

the myth
of ******

the baby is empty

~

(also, in the non self-published realm of credence, **** Press published in April 2016 my chapbook [infant*cinema], which is available on the **** Press site)
Jun 2016 · 225
liftoff
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
the scarecrow loving puppet put a pop gun to the head of the soundman’s lamb.  

-

my last meal
was my mother’s
voice.
Jun 2016 · 176
depictions of reentry (vi)
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
night terror, the handwriting
of imago’s
child…

/ resurrection, a memoir
Jun 2016 · 190
depictions of reentry (v)
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
/ you can work here for nine months

/ it’s not like riding a bike
it’s more
like kneeling
in the center
of a stickman’s
nightmare

/ never you mind
the bloated
baby’s
yellow
tooth

/ at least the sick

they confuse
death
Jun 2016 · 281
depictions of reentry (iv)
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
/ the tadpole torching my stomach in the museum of the heartless alligator  

/ the spider the star in suicide’s eye

/ the crow in the devil’s  purse
Jun 2016 · 281
{silo}
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
15% off all print books today on Lulu with coupon code of LULU15

some poems from some recent publications:

[untitled]

what seashell does for ocean
my pillow
will

for hunger.

oh dream,

insomnia’s
wiped out
city...

is this
a stone

or the mating
call
of grief?

~

[untitled]

the power
came back on
the boy
didn’t.

I had my chance
to believe
in god.

the beetle was on its back
and the woman
unable
to **** herself
ordered
online
a rowing
machine.

mother’s garden, father’s ladder.

a black cat
where nothing
grew.

~

[untitled]

church of intermission.  church of the rolled-away church my fever follows.  church of it ain’t a baby until it spits.  church of the lawnmower left running.  of the space you give the grieving horse.  church of you when you die in my sleep.  of musical suicides.  church of the disinfected high chair.  of the false bruise.  of how to become a balloon in the church of touch.
Jun 2016 · 232
example
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
after leaving its memory to the hibernating bear, the insect died.  I don’t know what story you’re trying to tell.  the angel has three fathers.  the angel was born to blackmail a ghost.  this bald ******* thinks I need shown how to chew my fingernails.  the mask is my elevator and the pig my coffin.  I have a sister was made to make an egg disappear.  a father who’d shave to give the thing in the stomach time to plan its escape.  the angel vomits into a pink wheelbarrow.  shows affection.
Jun 2016 · 268
core
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
the thinking was

the kids
they’d report
my disappearance

-

I saw two men trade guns
and assured
my brother
that men
differ

-

no one
today
is dead, the newborn

is letting
the lipstick
dry

-

my other movie is a fistfight

-

my other movie is the horse
my drowning
mother
drank

-

my other movie is not the dog
of my sister’s
first

hand, nor the nothing

I taste
on my way
to salt
Jun 2016 · 266
{left}
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
20% off all print books at Lulu today with coupon code of LULU20

/ from [shuteye in the land of the sacred commoner]

~

[untitled]

hell is a book.

she reads it
in a room
that’s alive.

attic or no, I want
to miss
my father.

~

[untitled]

she reaches into the same hat for the rabbit he’s made disappear.

I sleep and the dark takes me for the bone

lightning
straightens.

~

[entries for giants]

not a thing born
nor a thing
howled at
no
you are not
again
these things

the baby
it continues
to purple itself
where it can

it crawls, but is mostly stunned
by its own
vocabulary

the dog has the tongue of a cat

this is new

~

[the exact]

father became the man his possession foreshadowed. mom had a purse full of spoons. brother bathed any form quiet enough to make the kitchen sink. I began to believe. I began to hear in the rock

the thorn
it spoke for. over the nest of a bird,

the nothing to eat.

~

/ from [MOON tattoo]

~

[catastrophe]

I am differently
afraid
of each
cigarette

-

thematically, father hopes

to operate
on a clown

-

compared
to his

my hunger
is having
a flashback

-

wheelchair, oh

to its dog
door
bliss

~

[moon tattoo]

birth, or god’s
way
of erasing
our memory…

this
more than you
will hurt
my neighbor’s
doll
Jun 2016 · 208
throng
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
as for the infant
he ain’t
gonna hurt
himself /  

to quote
god
is that

how I sound
Jun 2016 · 187
hiatuses
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
self-harm

a nostalgia
that suffers
touch…

assault?

a hobby
Jun 2016 · 238
ravel
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
you’re not the twin
I thought
you were.

in looking at my life

a fuckload
of sleep
Jun 2016 · 207
plain sight
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
a hearse emerging from the shadow of a school bus

/ a mother
trying
to return
a baptized
mannequin

/ that poorly
lit
bait shop
star
Jun 2016 · 295
asker
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
I’d put something
in my mouth
and my nose
would bleed
and mom
would press
my ribs
and know
like that
the name
of the boy
buried
a horseshoe

-

return is a drug

hunger
a choice

-

and the lord said one of these animals is a writing machine
and the lord

he turned
the woman’s
shadow
into a garbage
bag

and the man’s
into water

-

sister dragged onto some dance floor
a scarecrow

-

pregnant / is what you get

if memory
remembers
to eat
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
SHUTEYE

IN THE LAND
OF THE SACRED
COMMONER

& other poems

110 pages, 7.00

self published and available today on Lulu

(book preview on site is book entire)

~

some poems, from:

~

{untitled}

the robot is a ******.

the baby
it goes
from baby
to baby
with no
message.

-

I want your work to matter.

~

{keep}

the laziness animals have, that kind of panicked longing…

and brevity, the faith
of insects

-

my shadow, of course, afraid of its borrowed blood

-

that barn
in the middle of nowhere’s haunted eyesight

-

the invisible
after-hours
birth, and the woman

who keeps the baby
despite
its perfection

-

this quiet in the redneck’s
library
of forgiveness, this thunder…

-

the agony of the boomerang’s maker

~

{******}

the cigarette
the worrier’s
flashlight

the past
a widow…

deserted childhood, electric eel.

if poor
put mouth
where mouth
is

~

{untitled}

the baby contorts as if it might become a chair

its mother is saying

wind
I will pray
for you

-

its father is fashioning

from some god’s
idea
of a stripper
pole

a dollhouse

totem

-

the baby itself is nonsense

its head
bruised
by a rattle
would brain

a parrot
Jun 2016 · 215
pink verse (ii)
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
there’s a kid on a bike with a machete and she’s run your brother up a tree.  your brother is taking off his clothes and the kid has a toe she treats like a loose tooth.

-

you watch as your mother tattoos the parts of her body she doesn’t like.  

the cross on her ankle
an insomniac’s
plus sign.

-

I say to the bird of the chipped brain
that faith
is fascination’s

bruise…

-

the food is gone that was seen by prayer
Jun 2016 · 242
pink verse (i)
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
like maybe god got into your head and left her mark on a clue.  like maybe you’re the meal a father imagines he’ll make to injure an animal.  like maybe there’s the eye has mama’s strong stomach and the eye has her hypnosis.  like maybe you have one leg because it’s the leg taught baby to burn its food on a pig.  like maybe talk is the scar this language looks at while going from snow to ash.
Jun 2016 · 206
the path
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
a tooth fairy sitting on the lap of a cannibal has just intercepted the message meant for my sister’s eating disorder.  I like that movies have no future.
Jun 2016 · 285
{off}
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
my most recent self published Lulu book, [MOON tattoo], was reviewed by Krystal Sierra, and part of what she says is here:

Because of the relationship between the line and white space, the reader turns back to the poem again and again, a practice that speaks to religious tradition, incantation byway of word and image, how the poem itself becomes the way God, or Spirit, communicates with us via channels we understand, the interplay between the word and white space much like what we know and do not know about the nature of the divine. – Krystal Sierra

~

some poems, from [MOON tattoo]:

[level]

brother is digging barehanded in the backyard a hole for what he hopes is the alien of god’s choice. as for existence, my mother’s is low on mine. my father is keeping out of the same sentence any mention of ****** and totem pole. no one including you cares for my sister’s worry that this no this is the bottom of a rock. if asked, I will say I was visiting with my arms the museum of rowboats during the regional spike in baptisms we as a family failed to interrupt.

~

[meditation]

summer was for sexting and for watering the scarecrow’s spine. say it with me this was not that summer. as a ghost might surprise the mother and go to salt, a doll might remember its teeth.
Jun 2016 · 462
meditations on hosanna
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
the sleepwalker and the hangman jumping rope in the town of the sheepish tornado where the church of two birds admits the child of the expat exile into the afterlife of a stone…
Jun 2016 · 328
perfect
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
i.

rain, bunny, prison yard

ii.

a boy
salts
a wet
fly, a hole

goes missing

iii.

soon as a spoon
a baby
becomes
its mother’s
bar
of soap

iv.

(going grey over parrot soup

v.

resurrection’s
hall of mirrors

vi.

a barber’s ransom note
Jun 2016 · 258
ghost whale
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
at one with a lonesome populace

dream small, god…

about death
death
was a baby
Jun 2016 · 318
(-)
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
(-)
what seashell does for ocean
my pillow
will

for hunger.

oh dream,

insomnia’s
wiped out
city...

is this
a stone

or the mating
call
of grief?
Jun 2016 · 272
meditations on persona
Barton D Smock Jun 2016
was this bug was biting me into house and home

/ the baby it was my belief
had come out to give me
a knowing
look  

/ I couldn’t
so to silence

eat my way from a wet paper doll
May 2016 · 219
diversion
Barton D Smock May 2016
in which my son dies for the few hours I’ll have with god
May 2016 · 283
godspeak
Barton D Smock May 2016
a lake
on the loss
of its shadow

/ the projection
booth
its tugboat
sorrow

/ bad blood
between
the brothers
mime
May 2016 · 536
(-)
Barton D Smock May 2016
(-)
/ had this hairbrush could halt hearing loss in hallucinations.  this theory that eve was adam’s mother and that god was born in eden for refusing to study virgins.  she had her facts straight and a dog would tell my son otherwise.  a way of coaxing both ****** and suicide to breastfeed death.  this bird that would go

like a showerhead
south.  a goldfish, a brainless calf…
May 2016 · 291
anodyne
Barton D Smock May 2016
as a shepherdess

overly
reflective…

at what age does it become

this black
hand

a grey
tear?

-

it worries me

your use
of the red
fox

-

on baby
there’s not
a scratch
May 2016 · 147
thee
Barton D Smock May 2016
it speaks of me

the past

like I’m
not here
Next page