From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Sun May 1 09:05:07 2011 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Sun, 1 May 2011 12:05:07 -0400 Subject: [Realpoetik] SHANE MCCRAE [Part Two] Message-ID: *from* THE AWAKENING OF SOLOMON NORTHUP: 2. IN DARKNESS Woke for the first time in my life chained aching woke in darkness Woke in a dark my eyes Couldn’t adjust to woke chained to a ring in the floor Head aching chained in a dark room And hearing footsteps voices overhead I realized The room was underground Woke and at first I couldn’t Remember how I came to be in the room and after I After remembering the men who ran the circus the Two white men who with whom I had been traveling Remembered but I couldn’t understand remembered only Eagerness kindness in their faces As they handed me the money I had earned And kindness in their faces as they left me for the night And woke in darkness was In darkness for hours and no one came I felt my way around the room I found The ring in the floor remembered but I couldn’t understand I felt my way around Crawling and in the darkness I after a while couldn’t be sure My eyes were open *Shane McCrae* is the author of *Mule* (Cleveland State University Poetry Center, 2011), and two chapbooks, *One Neither One* (Octopus Books, 2009) and *In Canaan* (Rescue Press, 2010). His work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in *The Best American Poetry 2010*, *Fence*, *Agni*, *Denver Quarterly*, *Typo*, and others. -- RealPoetik www.realpoetik.org -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Sun May 8 08:28:39 2011 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Sun, 8 May 2011 11:28:39 -0400 Subject: [Realpoetik] JOSEPH WOOD Message-ID: *from *The* *Vyvanse Triolets** XI. Now I the rower gentle on the water. Now I the water gentle in refraction. If this the moon, I befuddled by its light touch on owls, on feathers, on one bare branch settling the rower toward stasis. If I drown, it will be in my genitals, that dreary drooping flesh I detested—it put you in hospital and daughter arrived to this sick, sad world. I was blighted in my skull’s noxious water. I rowed in circles gently so as not to incur reflection. The moon insisted on light. XXXXVII. Reflection owes the moon no debt. Its light not insistent, noxious, nor gentle—sometimes a circle, traces of water located where I—unharnessed, floating, breathless— would see not—nor owe—reflection. Its light insists to those outside its body—there’s not lying one place that’s an earthling skull or a genital—strange creatures believe the moon owes their species’ reflection, insist they are gentle—they trace a circle, make an *X—*water. *Joseph P. Wood* is the author of two full collections of poetry--*Fold of the Map *(Salmon 2012) and *I & We* (CW Books 2010)--and five chapbooks. New poems can or will be found in *Boston Review, Bateau, DIAGRAM, Hotel Amerika, horseless review, *and* Handsome,** *among others. He teaches at The University of Alabama and is one of six members running The Slash Pine Projects, an undergraduate internship focusing on community arts and micropublishing. His website is www.josephpatrickwood.com. -- RealPoetik www.realpoetik.org -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Sun May 22 08:11:25 2011 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Sun, 22 May 2011 11:11:25 -0400 Subject: [Realpoetik] LEORA FRIDMAN Message-ID: FORETHOUGHT AGONY BELL forethought agony bell that ringing is not an illness but reduces anyway tell on, teller forthwith a grandfatherly preacher faded into the normal blackguard of the town no one saw him slide to the stairway or begin to disallow any visual representation of his speeches, crowds of this size play basketball out of boredom when they want to in church a receptive leader would have spoke to them again the preacher just lived up higher in a bedroom & door flapping hands at the windows when menfolk went too low, he set a tonal standard by which trust crowded the disease they knew was coming trapped stature so ho-hum *Leora Fridman *is a writer, translator and educator living in Massachusetts. Her recent and forthcoming publications are included in *The Awl*, *Shampoo*, *Denver Quarterly* and others. She is an MFA candidate at UMass-Amherst. -- RealPoetik www.realpoetik.org -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Sun May 29 09:04:34 2011 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Sun, 29 May 2011 12:04:34 -0400 Subject: [Realpoetik] NATHAN HAUKE Message-ID: COLOR IS WORSE THAN ETERNITY Ribbon of water in the morning Shines like razor walking the dog With a mouthful of blackberries rain leaves mirror everywhere Trying not to step in it Our life is a forgetting (friend’s voice) Where one place begins to fall into another Where the bank of this shore erodes into current *Nathan Hauke*'s chapbook *In the Living Room *was recently released by Lame House Press (2010). His poetry has been published in *American Letters & Commentary, BlazeVox, Colorado Review, Denver Quarterly, Electronic Poetry Review, Eleven Eleven, Greatcoat, Horse Less Review, Interim, New American Writing, Parthenon West, Peaches & Bats, Twenty Six, *and *We Are So Happy To Know Something* among others.* * He is currently co-editor at Ark Press and an editor for Slash Pine Press. -- RealPoetik www.realpoetik.org -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: