From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Sat Sep 7 11:34:27 2013 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Sat, 7 Sep 2013 14:34:27 -0400 Subject: [RealPoetik] Caroline Davidson Message-ID: *I Can’t Get No.* Buckets, I shed buckets of wet. Listen to new felon charm, the new man words, hunt for a face to hide in this limestone and bug capital city. Gulp and consider! Why here, him, this capitalist non-think. I have such thick plans for bursting— luckily, a workload allows for easier constriction. Sell it! Sorry, can’t talk anything when that glass sits unoccupied— when a quoted Midwest city shifts on its drum. You lie on a small stomach; that work canoe ride did it. I should consider the wax smell, instead I mention Doctor Beak, you know, of Rome, you know? The Plague Doctor? You don’t, but I say, “cloves to defend against miasma,” anyway. Oh, morning. The want : to attract cynics who lift me. Still, unable to afford a little guitar, one hotel hour, monotypes of girls who rise from grand black canals. Caroline Davidson's poems have appeared in *Coconut*, *Tinge*, Sixth Finch, *Gulf Stream*, *Robot Melon*, and elsewhere. She is from Ohio, received an MFA from the University of Colorado-Boulder, and currently sings, writes, and promotes musicians in one of those places. -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Sat Sep 14 08:08:49 2013 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Sat, 14 Sep 2013 11:08:49 -0400 Subject: [RealPoetik] Feliz Lucia Molina and Ben Segal Message-ID: *from* THE MIDDLE Like any beginning, maybe there should be a man or boy or man-boy. Let this figure remain inconstant, a crux to argue about fiction, a place to set the scene. Imagine there are unnamable trees, a river too difficult to pronounce, mosquitoes of an alien class. Imagine everyone is extremely polite. To sense the opposite is to immediately feel betrayed. As the soft and blurry figure draws close, you realize it could hurt. A boy approached covered in saws. He had arms like anyone else and I was not afraid to shake his hand. His saws were sharp but never meant for us. Everyone was kind in spite of the heat that pressed against our heads. The boy was a man really, but youthful. He smiled. He showed us his work.** * * * * * * * * * * His sculptures were long wooden echoes of himself. When asking what the figures meant, he spread apart his arms and strained to explain the Japanese schooling system, something about balance, a frozen figure locked on a long beam. I refrained from asking what two things he was balancing between or if it was a multitude of things that made his limbs grow, a dark forest garnering paranoia. In a remote Philippine village, an elder keeps the key to the karaoke machine. The elders don’t mess around. If there’s one thing to keep safe and chaste, it’s the machine and collection of sing-a-long tapes. There is what is known as the “karaoke killings phenomenon.” Some lost lives singing “My Way” off key. Many were conceived or born while karaoke-ing. On that night the bird and boy were practically brothers. They sat still in the same folded posture, darted their necks to pierce the dark. The bird was heavy like the seawall, the boy like the jetty. The boy was sadder, but the bird was more profound. I was like the shorter version of the bargeman who watched them from out past the waves. He was like his own father, but sweeter and a better singer. I sang equally well, as did the boy and the bird, though not that night. Then they were both more quiet than the sand. Feliz Lucia Molina is the author of *Undercastle* forthcoming from Magic Helicopter Press in 2013. Other things include *Hair Hearts Flip *and *Kim Jong-Il Looking At Things* (Gauss PDF), and more things forthcoming in *The Volta, So & So, Bomb*, and elsewhere. This past summer she was in residence at Haisyakkei in Japan where she collaborated with Ben Segal on *The Middle*. She is a contributing editor at *continent *. and lives in Los Angeles. Ben Segal is the author of *78 Stories* (No Record Press) and co-editor of the anthology *The Official Catalog of the Library of Potential Literature* (Lit Pub Books). His chapbooks *Science Fiction Pornography* and *Weather Days *were published by Publishing Genius and Mud Luscious Press, respectively, and his short fiction has been published by or is forthcoming from *Tin House, Tarpaulin Sky, Gigantic, *and* **Puerto del Sol, *among others. -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Fri Sep 20 10:15:40 2013 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Fri, 20 Sep 2013 13:15:40 -0400 Subject: [RealPoetik] C. Violet Eaton Message-ID: little flower preoccupied with finance & theater else with ordinary vessels a cup or can or shoe in a field of rye where the question which is most beautiful is obsolete in its own myth cured in the malevolent fact of thinking crushed into a whole * * * * * * * * * * in the very eye of night the owl in the wood or the word in the wood the work of the world & the work of the word the owl in the world or the woman in the owl bells C. Violet Eaton is the editor of *Bestoned*, a hand-sewn journal of new metaphysical verse. As *Dowser*, he occasionally dispatches small editions of 'hill drone' recordings from secret locations throughout Arkansas, where he also sells rare books. Recent work is available or forthcoming from *Yalobusha Review*, *Aufgabe*, *Cannibal*, and *Colorado Review*. -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: From realpoetik at scn9.scn.org Sat Sep 28 16:50:19 2013 From: realpoetik at scn9.scn.org (RealPoetik Magazine) Date: Sat, 28 Sep 2013 18:50:19 -0500 Subject: [RealPoetik] Fwd: Kevin Holden In-Reply-To: References: Message-ID: *dihedral mum* wander calyx under a sunstorm moving out against the wind we would let that go so to say a darker ruby heady dream in bed doing it la a reboxy latter day antiphony seek to play that piano into mesh sage blown in a field meager allotrope of it carbon in many wingèd poly flotsam cumming in sweeter radii lighter and darker, now a now flung up in the rafters dancing see to it she walk for the tower farther in a heather waste buried under a mound so splay a flower out in rays that puffball seeds updown triple spiral staircase seeded rear, to then let helium flower we a former ghost *aves* transform that space well, you’re okay how much money did you get purple sage field he’d say it was real well I don’t remember that fold a flock of geese in triangles I’ll give you 20 that would be what the birds start with Kevin Holden is the author of *Alpine *(White Queen Press) and *Identity *(Cannibal Books).His work has appeared in journals including *1913*, * Conjunctions, Aufgabe*, *jubilat*, *Colorado Review*,* Typo*, and* Little Red Leaves, *and was included in the recent anthology *The Arcadia Project *(Ahsahta Press). He is a graduate student at Yale University and also teaches at Bard College. -- RealPoetik www.realpoetik.org -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: