From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Mon Oct 8 08:15:31 2012 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Mon, 8 Oct 2012 11:15:31 -0400 Subject: [Realpoetik] WESTON CUTTER Message-ID: AUGURY The grill kicks an orange hole in the season, a spear into ribs, a thief in aisle eleven: I've laid hands on those massive midwest drills + imagined twisting one into a frozen lake til water quit its solid seasonal stubbornness to reveal blinking life beneath, living stuff which knows more ways to live with ice than I. What I know involves occasional cocoa, salt on the side walk, recalled or fore told equitorial stories, Costa Rica or warmer. The salmon hums bright pink in the December dusk + the dog believes falling snow's a question asked over and over again, he answers with barks, sniffs anxious where his two-hours-back footsteps have dis appeared. The only chance I've had so far I turned from the hole in the ice, watched friends offer vividity to its depth, the lake a phone booth they dropped the quarters of their youth into, *hello...* we all steamed in dark together. Who knew. They hooted, I hung back. And what was it they found or felt? That view, stars the endpoints of distant icicles. They emerged dripping, touched blue. *It's like going* * through*, they said. To where, to what. Who knew. Ellen loves me despite that I've never manned up + dropped myself into measured harm + now the fish is ready, flesh flaky, out of place in this cold: we make meals from whatever we can, set the table, count days till May, pour the wine, dive in. *Weston Cutter*'s the author of *You'd Be a Stranger, Too*, a collection of stories, and the chapbooks *All Black Everything*and *(0,0)* . He runs the book review website corduroybooks.com/ and has poems coming soon in *diode* and *Copper Nickel*. [image: https://mail.google.com/mail/images/cleardot.gif] -- RealPoetik www.realpoetik.org -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Sun Oct 14 19:38:11 2012 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Sun, 14 Oct 2012 22:38:11 -0400 Subject: [Realpoetik] DANIEL SCOTT PARKER Message-ID: *from* (i.e., Jump) You who are mortal & alarming, cut your coat out of your own back- yard. Measure the curve of water with the bare of your pale & cumbered bones & feel. Time has already changed the present so commas are shuddering into periods of blue. Our longing becomes a shimmering desert & to come back is alone. I see my face again in the mirror & that bearing grin becomes a cistern of disgrace I can’t let go. Is *ceci n’est pas * *une pipe* a poem? I don’t know. In a dream we are standing outside the Pantheon, & I wonder could Adam have known his own loneliness? The poem is a dream & the desert is blue in light of all this. *Daniel Scott Parker *has never wrestled an alligator, but he has drunk water from the Okefenokee Swamp. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in *Spork Press, Marco Polo,* *The Stray Dog Almanac, *and *great weather for MEDIA.* He lives in Chicago, where he is pursuing an MFA in poetry. -- RealPoetik www.realpoetik.org -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Sun Oct 21 15:02:25 2012 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Sun, 21 Oct 2012 18:02:25 -0400 Subject: [Realpoetik] ANGELA HUME Message-ID: [image: Inline image 1] [image: Inline image 1] -- RealPoetik www.realpoetik.org -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: -------------- next part -------------- A non-text attachment was scrubbed... Name: humebio.jpg Type: image/jpeg Size: 40683 bytes Desc: not available URL: -------------- next part -------------- A non-text attachment was scrubbed... Name: humerp.jpg Type: image/jpeg Size: 40147 bytes Desc: not available URL: