Home Poetry - Year III - Number 9 - Volume Two - September 2017

Poetry - Year III - Number 9 - Volume Two - September 2017

    INDIAN POINT by Jack Brown

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    INDIAN POINTBy Jack Brown After planting purple spider wortaround the tombstone of the old soldierin the cemetery at the end of the roadwe scuttle from ridge to ridge.A country Docand a visitor from New York. May...

    ROMANCE OF THE MASK by Frederick Pollack

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    ROMANCE OF THE MASKBy Frederick Pollack  Kin By the late seventeenth century he isat least possible, crying “Bring outyour dead” and breaking intohouses where the distinctionis moot; where the doctorswith great beaked masks full of posieshave...

    MY NOTEBOOK by Charles Dutka

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    MY NOTEBOOKBy Charles Dutka  Cafe’ in a Basement This green teatastes like cadmiumor is it stardustand raspberries? Its glass container the textureof musicand the color ofrunic magicperformed on a stageof frozen salt. It was the temperature of that bluish...

    TRACK 18 by Benjamin Schmitt

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    TRACK 18By Benjamin Schmitt Track 18 Sophie bears me to ill willshe cannot barethe weight of her own heartshe-bears have robbed herwith their raw fish breathand den scentsof the inquisitive breezethat once scatteredorganized leaf piles of...

    ICE CREAM TRUCK by Alicia Cole

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         ICE CREAM TRUCKBy Alicia Cole     Ice Cream TruckThe cone is always the cone.The rhyme scheme, the metric oomph:these hold the dripping words.They're always melting.  The sonnet,the sapphic, the prose poem, the cento.Melting into the readers'...

    FALLEN SEEDS by Donny Barilla

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    FALLEN SEEDSBy Donny Barilla     Fallen SeedsSweet juices pooled about the floor of my mouth.I snapped the apples skin and felt the floods slap across my tongue.Pulps sauteed the parchment walls of my throatas I opened...

    TAPESTRY by Natasha Zarine

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    TAPESTRYBy Natasha Zarine IncarnaratedClutching the rolls of youDrip latent constellationsEnchained by taboo.But when I howl of pleasureI never think of you. Raping myself, I caressEvery tingling motionFeeling what will not exist.Like a harp, I pluckMyself to...

    ON THE SANDS OF LIDO by Bob Varghese

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    ON THE SANDS OF LIDOBy B. A. Varghese Knowing It was enoughknowing he was therehis presence like an army of giantsbaritone voices encouragingalong the battle linestrong hands behind meguarding guidingplunging me forward to my future manyet...

    MORE by Chris Fields

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    MOREBy Christopher Fields      More                                                                                                             Why seek anything morethan a life that slips frictionlessly by?I want more.  I want a life that lashes;I want a life that grinds and scrapes,that prunes away weak piecesexposing lurid truths beneath.I...