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October 21, 2014 / barton smock

ice fishers of men

exit music for stop-motion departures.

a son
a dying breed
of circle.

can light
perfect
a shadow?

October 21, 2014 / barton smock

cessation psalm

the less said about god’s addiction to brevity

as heard
by the angel
of birth

October 21, 2014 / barton smock

upper body

the only vandal
the town
has

has just
welcomed
into the world

a baby’s
broken
ankle.

the people of the town
though not diverse

rejoice.

the wind
tortures
with a trash bag
its shadow.

the vandal’s dog
allows
a darker animal
to nose its way
between the knees
of nothing
clipped
to a clothesline.

god is the sighting
such tantrums
begin.

October 20, 2014 / barton smock

fathers of sex

pregnant, she was killed during a game of hide and seek. a man passing through popped the trunk of his car going over a pothole. disparate images of war took root in the photographic amnesia of crows. brother smuggled a pillow into the meeting of the minds. never much to look at, mother made a skirt from the executioner’s mask.

October 20, 2014 / barton smock

dream tissue

I saw
my son’s
muscle
spinning
in the web
of a spiderless
god.

it seemed
only fair…

October 18, 2014 / barton smock

men hermetic

the crow
the fine print
of nowhere.

the bomb shelter
the rumored locale
of a mother’s
laundry room.

the bare cross
the teething
toy
a baby
bypasses
for the neck
of the woman
waiting
for her junk
to fall.

the mare
the anxious
bike.

October 18, 2014 / barton smock

re:

I took shape
at the sound
of my father’s
whistle-

when well
rested
my mother
was the sense
god
left me-

here is how
I stole
mail: I pulled my little brother

in a wagon
in broad
daylight.

here is what I know:

you’re not hungry
if you can’t recall
the last time
you ate.

a man dialing his palm
with a knife
from atop
a moving
train
may have
the aesthetic
dignity

you’re looking for
but it’s not
something
the anointed

confess

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