by the cbw Dreams set on recycle Rinse, but not quite repeat Corner, cornea: my eyes seem askew Lost in mazes of my sub- Basement; flooded by torrential tears A race is on but I overslept. Step by leap by bound, I try to recover If a penny was collected by Charon I’d be an unconsciousMillionaire and happy to … Continue reading Lasers
Author: johnbrandall
John Randall is a writer living in Missouri. His interests include camping, running, walking, cutting and burning wood, messing around with magnets, foraging, and listening to podcasts, many of them about baseball.
Ezra Ain’t Easy
1
I could’ve gone
to see Pound while he was
still in the hospital.
But my mother-in-law hates him
and it would’ve killed her.
So I just let
the crazyman be;
him & Fords,
Jags, Land Rovers, etc.
2
One of the
must-read poets
said he couldn’t write
with stubble on his chin;
called for
a holiday for writing.
In other words,
a good time
to swear off coffee,
not to get too gassed.
3
Ezra Brooks
bourbon you say you
were drinking.
But why then
do I smell lime
on your breath—
I am not a teetotaller,
not a prohibitionist. I know
there is no cuba libre
for whiskey,
none for fascists
the world around.
German ‘Scapes
igrass blue grassand green on the hillone an artist has seenmemorialized, made famousprotected & infectedwho sides along it now as a creekwishing he’d be quietbefore trickling intothe reservoir iiblue skies, blue skies & holycumulus not besetby even an ipod as it gathers water to sharewith the terra cotta villagestuck in song below iiidanger signs danger old trainsheathed … Continue reading German ‘Scapes
No, I Didn’t Hear That One
knock knock
I don’t care who walks into a bar
or who’s there
or how many so-and-so chickens
it takes
to screw in a lightbulb
or what the lawyer said
to his shoe or what religion
the shoe was
I’m not waiting
I’m not waiting who
for the punchline
of that joke you’re supposed to tell
all dirty
and when a phone rings in the bar
& is Jacques Strappe there?
I’m crossing the road
and you shouldn’t have to ask me why
BF.B
Breath stinksOf brandy.The woman, the drink.The first girl I ever slept withNow worksFor Brown Forman.She’s still drunk I guess.
Heat Haiku
by R. L. Wisdom
it's too god damned hot
i feel like ending it all
when will autumn come?
water source
murmur aria “there’s a voice there,” says her mother babble traffic in all these ways she speaks to me
Mike Bacsik
—BASIC. 756* "Toss the ball back." Like they did in Wrigley when I was young. When a home run meant the ball left home & if you wanted it back you had to run after it as it rolled down Waveland...
Misc. Haiku 26-30
26
Out in a field,
Weaving a wreath
Of cornflowers
27
Head hurts, sounds
Of the faucet upstairs—I don’t
Want to write any poetry
28
Reading on summer porch
Surrounded by oak and maple.
Beyond, useless world
29
Squirrels the lorax
To my bygone yellow patch
Of sunflowers
30
Alas! A sound the dog and I
Both thought could be her car
Was only a weedeater
distinct observations of the 1st kind
by the cbw helicopters, distant hammering, trees rustlin, plants tussling, a crack-house green-house, dirty white chairs, car engines, pots, pans being pounded, faint TV (very faint), craigs list furniture, ants, a dangerous looking hammock nestled in the ominous shadow, some pot, some water, some sot who sought to wrought a write under a rotten umbrella, … Continue reading distinct observations of the 1st kind
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