From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Sun Mar 4 06:54:20 2012 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Sun, 4 Mar 2012 09:54:20 -0500 Subject: [Realpoetik] LUCAS FARRELL Message-ID: GERTRUDE GIVES BIRTH TO TWINS To birth is to take in fresher aspects of. An owl’s nest strewn in a white field. My brother coughing up sunlight in a white field, feathers. Five o’clock half-grazes the snowed-in shadows. Meaning, her kids arrived here as into a flood. As out of some liquid prayer. O Gertrude, whose placenta stretches clear across this skyline: I will listen listen listen to all the unmurdered birds. Singing in the laboring heights. *Lucas Farrell* farms goats and the occasional poem or two. Please visit www.bigpicturefarm.com to learn/read more. -- RealPoetik www.realpoetik.org -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Sun Mar 11 21:24:44 2012 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Sun, 11 Mar 2012 21:24:44 -0700 Subject: [Realpoetik] LUCAS FARRELL [Part Two] Message-ID: Everything in silver. The dog in the road. The two dogs in the road. The limbs of the trees enrobed. In silver. The sun in silver. The tongues of the lambs lapping ice limbs, silver. There is a music in the road that the dogs dog to. That the people people to. It’s a dance I dance to. It’s silver. It goes: who is this place why did it home here, where’s the beginning, now hurt me. There is an honest to god answer. I don’t know what it is or where to find it, but I’m sensual to it. After all, we’re not going to be here for very long. Stand arm in arm with the conditions and marvel. *Lucas Farrell* farms goats and the occasional poem or two. Please visit www.bigpicturefarm.com to learn/read more. -- RealPoetik www.realpoetik.org -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Sun Mar 18 09:49:26 2012 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Sun, 18 Mar 2012 12:49:26 -0400 Subject: [Realpoetik] ERIKA MOYA Message-ID: IMPOSTER there was a death there *always* is & a boy with nothing in his pockets like he needed her *soft skin of grapefruit* a minute & it's just your face & she can't remember the words wave a hand and she moves closer move it twice and one is tied down to a cell imagine pieces still inside you homing pigeons half-consumed things the sweet smell of garbage women dressed like beach-side catalogues *aqua coral tamarind * you can never forget this blue and un-fuckable moment the real of the yellow with its hooks all in *Erika Moya*'s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in *forklift, Ohio*, *Spork Press*, & *elimae *among other places. She co-curates the Stain of Poetry reading series in the Bushwick neighborhood of Brooklyn where she resides. -- RealPoetik www.realpoetik.org -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Sun Mar 25 07:20:20 2012 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Sun, 25 Mar 2012 10:20:20 -0400 Subject: [Realpoetik] JOHN MCKERNAN Message-ID: *MY BROTHER LIVES IN A MANSION He sleeps On an alphabet quilt He wakes When the sunlight Pours into his notebook He dines On a breakfast Of memory Hidden in shadow He works Walking slowly Through my skull Until every day is identical The last The last The last* * * * * * * *John McKernan is now a retired comma herder. He lives--mostly--in West Virgina where he edits ABZ press. His most recent book is a selected poems, Resurrection of the Dust. He has published poems in The Atlantic Monthly, The Paris Review, The New Yorker, Virginia Quarterly Review and many other magazines.* -- RealPoetik www.realpoetik.org -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: