Old Losantiville, gone gone
under a city of aluminum, steel
LED lights and fake boat whistles
piped through speakers:
leaving, I give myself leave
to remember my geography
my own way
Tag Archives: Ohio
on [rocks have the softest shadows] by Barton Smock
I’m late on this one and rightly offer apologies. Bart’s got a few books out and you should go find them. Go here. A conversation with him is going to feature on an upcoming episode o my peripatically published indie publishing Podcast, THE SLUDGE REVIEW.
"god's been gone nine months and all this talk he's done of being stabbed in a dollhouse struggles to fill a baby (do animals have songs"
all this talk / see / and what is they’re showing
this moment all soaked in mock rock urine dried
like young ageless sea sand gritting tween the toes
clenched and chaffing raw
silk flowers they wilt too
silk flowers they wilt too
vanity maybe who am I if not in motion this is not a meditative question never good at
the domestic I fly against reason a single cicada against a giant pane of glass on the
other side of which is dance /maybe/ or risk /maybe/ people insist I should embrace some someday equation but I’ve seen that just visited his grave as a matter of fact and the flowers are wilted not for the lack of remembering but because life is for the living not silk flowers and unpromised tomorrows
the birds sing teases
seasons change for spite
bones grind push fight