Aug 2016
/ my newest self-published collection of poems, [depictions of reentry], is available now on Lulu.
will send for free a hard copy to anyone interested in writing a review – make request to bartonsmock@yahoo.com
book preview on site is book entire
some poems from it:
[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.
~
[attic radio]
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.
~
[meditations on depth]
the mouth
of the thing
that eats
in fog
a doll’s
head
-
the holy spirit
high
on the bricklayer’s
toothache
-
a cat person
at death’s
door
-
poverty
a belonging
moved
by many
mirrors
~
[seeing]
bored as a slaughterhouse
crow / angel
on a skateboard
~
[depictions of reentry (xxi)]
the barn
bat
with the eyes
of a diver’s
shadow…
the dads were all digging
the nudes
were thinking
small
every chair
an electric
chair
in daylight, that motherless grief
~~
/ my first non self-published chapbook, [infant cinema], is available from **** Press.
I currently have three signed copies available for free- make request to bartonsmock@yahoo.com
excerpt, here:
my child. my diver who wets the bed. my worrier who rescues domestic scenes for animals accused of gaslighting. my swimmer. bather of grasshoppers. my lovely bird alone in an airplane.
~
two things to do on an empty stomach are:
hold a séance.
follow the spider’s trail of abandoned birthmarks.
~
in the video, the young woman is being force-fed cake by a man with a ruined tongue. my mother can’t eat and watch at the same time. your mother is holding me and wondering what happened to this thing. our fathers are veering into the realm of film criticism. where you are depends wholly on my sister’s makeup. god’s parents have no concept of time.
~~
/ also, ending tomorrow, is the goodreads giveaway for my self-published thing, [FOUR], which includes four recent titles of mine in full along with some newer poems.
some poems from it:
[the many]
as an uncle
can enter
any garage
and sense
the absence
of a nailgun
so
can a holy man
prepare
a meal
in the missing
church
~
[purlieu]
a bruise, a school
of fish. a caterpillar
crossing
the floor
of hell. a thought
sick
to a son’s
stomach, a winter
glove
in spider’s
nightmare.
~
[mouthings]
a brother
dodges
suicide
with a piece
of paper
that doesn’t
work. a mother’s
blood
goes white
at the ink
of amnesia.
bus stop, breastmilk
there was
no me.
at what would god
not
be caught
dead? speaking
is how we talk
to the words
we say.
~
[stratum]
two brothers come to blows over which sister likes fast food more. a man we want to love is shadowboxing a snowdrift from the parable of touch. blood is a food group. I pray to my hair. call my footwork by name. take my time
with amnesia.
baby facts include being born again in the museum you were carried to.
will send for free a hard copy to anyone interested in writing a review – make request to bartonsmock@yahoo.com
book preview on site is book entire
some poems from it:
[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.
~
[attic radio]
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.
~
[meditations on depth]
the mouth
of the thing
that eats
in fog
a doll’s
head
-
the holy spirit
high
on the bricklayer’s
toothache
-
a cat person
at death’s
door
-
poverty
a belonging
moved
by many
mirrors
~
[seeing]
bored as a slaughterhouse
crow / angel
on a skateboard
~
[depictions of reentry (xxi)]
the barn
bat
with the eyes
of a diver’s
shadow…
the dads were all digging
the nudes
were thinking
small
every chair
an electric
chair
in daylight, that motherless grief
~~
/ my first non self-published chapbook, [infant cinema], is available from **** Press.
I currently have three signed copies available for free- make request to bartonsmock@yahoo.com
excerpt, here:
my child. my diver who wets the bed. my worrier who rescues domestic scenes for animals accused of gaslighting. my swimmer. bather of grasshoppers. my lovely bird alone in an airplane.
~
two things to do on an empty stomach are:
hold a séance.
follow the spider’s trail of abandoned birthmarks.
~
in the video, the young woman is being force-fed cake by a man with a ruined tongue. my mother can’t eat and watch at the same time. your mother is holding me and wondering what happened to this thing. our fathers are veering into the realm of film criticism. where you are depends wholly on my sister’s makeup. god’s parents have no concept of time.
~~
/ also, ending tomorrow, is the goodreads giveaway for my self-published thing, [FOUR], which includes four recent titles of mine in full along with some newer poems.
some poems from it:
[the many]
as an uncle
can enter
any garage
and sense
the absence
of a nailgun
so
can a holy man
prepare
a meal
in the missing
church
~
[purlieu]
a bruise, a school
of fish. a caterpillar
crossing
the floor
of hell. a thought
sick
to a son’s
stomach, a winter
glove
in spider’s
nightmare.
~
[mouthings]
a brother
dodges
suicide
with a piece
of paper
that doesn’t
work. a mother’s
blood
goes white
at the ink
of amnesia.
bus stop, breastmilk
there was
no me.
at what would god
not
be caught
dead? speaking
is how we talk
to the words
we say.
~
[stratum]
two brothers come to blows over which sister likes fast food more. a man we want to love is shadowboxing a snowdrift from the parable of touch. blood is a food group. I pray to my hair. call my footwork by name. take my time
with amnesia.
baby facts include being born again in the museum you were carried to.
