I live in a world where saying something is preferred. After selecting poems from my previous fourteen full length collections and placing them in my recent The Women You Take From Your Brother, there was bound to be some wreckage. My newest collection, Choice Echo, is that wreckage. I’m behind it, and bound for aftermath. Self published, 141 pages.
http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/choice-echo/paperback/product-21852599.html
sample poems, from:
forgeries
permanence is upon us.
one who paces.
predator
that I never took
for god.
-
on the inside
the predator
I attacked
personally
became the world
where the window
into the world
of hazing
opened.
-
in infancy
I possessed
a belonging.
humanitarian pause
not as common
is the dream
stuck
in the man.
not all wounds
report back.
I’d look for my father
if I knew where
to begin.
with my mother
it’s like my mother never happened.
I am the man whose missing woman
was bedridden
first.
I depend on my safety.
I worship a sleep that worships.
my brother feels no pain. a characteristic
he blames
on my sister’s
begging
to be interrogated.
not on speaking terms with a former self,
the dream is god.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC
I live in a world where saying something is preferred. After selecting poems from my previous fourteen full length collections and placing them in my recent The Women You Take From Your Brother, there was bound to be some wreckage. My newest collection, Choice Echo, is that wreckage. I’m behind it, and bound for aftermath. Self published, 141 pages.
http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/choice-echo/paperback/product-21852599.html
sample poems, from:
forgeries
permanence is upon us.
one who paces.
predator
that I never took
for god.
-
on the inside
the predator
I attacked
personally
became the world
where the window
into the world
of hazing
opened.
-
in infancy
I possessed
a belonging.
humanitarian pause
not as common
is the dream
stuck
in the man.
not all wounds
report back.
I’d look for my father
if I knew where
to begin.
with my mother
it’s like my mother never happened.
I am the man whose missing woman
was bedridden
first.
I depend on my safety.
I worship a sleep that worships.
my brother feels no pain. a characteristic
he blames
on my sister’s
begging
to be interrogated.
not on speaking terms with a former self,
the dream is god.
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