peace and quiet haunt each other.  there’s a hole in my soup.  no disease is rare.  no son.  god taps me on both shoulders because they are his.  my father is the soundman who fails to establish his mother’s voice.  my mother is seconds into sobbing when she disappears without it.  the tv show is very kind.  the old man dreams his wife is young again and she dreams he is strong.  the cemetery may remember death but needs told.  the hallway is nothing more than the hallway of a particular nursing home.  light throws itself like a voice into the deeply peculiar where I touch myself when I clap.  a ghost pokes itself in the eye that undressed you.

/ 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.

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

in the bed
of a soundman
who has privately

gone to bury
his own

Fourteen years old,
Story untold
I fell in love with Charlie,
And he nerded
As never before

I still make coffee
For two,
Watching quietly
From every door frame
Grumpy olf soundman---
Needs to love too,
Strange namr,
Transparent shame,
Instant fame

Sold belongings
Become Itinerant
Poetry librarian,
Semi colons;
I use them to excess
Supported the sublime
With uncurbed---
Enthusiasms

Changing mind postponed
Demise by decades,
Later-life serendipity
Led to Authorland

I was born some assembly
Required,
Anything's possible with---
An extension cord
Cried,
Defied, denied,
Sighed,
Died,
Reapplied,
Mistakenly kills kitten,
Fears anything delicate

I was there
And I was patient
No judgements
I was listening
And you confided
I wish I could absorb your pain
Sometimes like a priest
Or a therapist
Or a soundman
The truth is
I cannot absorb your pain
Without adding some of my own

I will always try to help

But nobody is going to tell me how to feel.

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

-

my last meal
was my mother’s
voice.

i'll allow you. it's okay.
i got used to this anyways, so...
you didn't destroy me, you know,
even though
i still fight with myself and
with the silence i want.
but it is okay.
you can.
don't worry.
i am
elastic.
gum.
rubber.
my heart can stretch as much as you want to pull it
and, surprisingly, dear, it does not break.

it's okay. i allow you to be
the director
the playwright
the scenographer
the light designer
the soundman
the stagehand
the manager
of my life.
and i, the humble and obedient actor
ready for anything
for those few minutes of fame
ideal ******
and claps.

can i also be the audience?
i think it would be a successful comedy.

no trick to being poor.  

the beauty of our entire football team
sleeping
with the same

person

equals
that of mother
saying
that she can feel
god’s head
touching
every hair
on hers.  I can hear

my dreams
over

the soundman’s
perfect
fly
bursting
in my brother’s
ear.  never

did I have
an idea

come
to me.