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September 29, 2016 / barton smock

spoonings

the insomniac’s apple tree and a pig paler than its own star

the pinky swearing ghost of my rib

September 28, 2016 / barton smock

{owners}

my self-published (on demand) Lulu books are here:
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/acolyteroad

** 20% off all print books, there, thru October 3rd with coupon code of SAVETODAY **

latest collections:

[earth is part earth and there’s a hole in the sound I made you from]
9.00
98 pages
published December 2015
http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/earth-is-part-earth-and-theres-a-hole-in-the-sound-i-made-you-from/paperback/product-22503167.html

~

[MOON tattoo]
9.00
114 pages
published March 2016
http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/moon-tattoo/paperback/product-22621263.html

~

[shuteye in the land of the sacred commoner (& other poems)]
7.00
114 pages
published June 2016
http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/shuteye-in-the-land-of-the-sacred-commoner/paperback/product-22744790.html

~

[FOUR]
12.00
340 pages
published June 2016

~ this is a combined publication of these four collections: earth is part earth and there’s a hole in the sound I made you from / MOON tattoo / infant*cinema / shuteye in the land of the sacred commoner [& other poems] ~
http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/four/paperback/product-22756947.html

~

[depictions of reentry]
9.00
146 pages
published August 2016
http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/depictions-of-reentry/paperback/product-22811652.html

~

speaking of books, and of talking to myself, I said some things about two recent, and excellent, books of poetry:

Nothing Good Ever Happens After Midnight, Sarah Marcus, GTK Press

https://kingsoftrain.wordpress.com/2016/09/07/nothing-good-ever-happens-after-midnight-poems-by-sarah-marcus-gtk-press-2016/

marshland moon, Eleanor Gray, Dink Press

https://kingsoftrain.wordpress.com/2016/09/27/reflections-on-marshland-moon-poems-by-eleanor-gray-dink-press-2016/

September 28, 2016 / barton smock

crib worship

an animal lost in a little church

a hallucinating buzzard

snow
that light
replaced

September 27, 2016 / barton smock

centers

the house knows I’ve been sleeping in my car. my son opens an empty fridge. no one in the book has turned on a light. I am dying. I never got to make a habit

of this. I love more

her adopted
clock.

September 27, 2016 / barton smock

reflections on [marshland moon]/ poems by eleanor gray, Dink Press 2016

reflections on

marshland moon
poems
eleanor gray
(Dink Press 2016)

order, here:
http://dinkpress.bigcartel.com/product/marshland-moon-by-eleanor-gray

~

“(it is nothing, is nothing

…and so, where fables began)” – from [Lady’s Slipper]

After reading:

if there is no card

the flowers
are
from loss.

I didn’t know how to end things. I threw a soft doll

at a bullet.

I was trying to be quiet
but silence

it has
a safe word.

The way swimming plays with my shadow. The prop

high-chair.

~

During:

The missing child learns a new word. Not from me. Not that I remember. Our favorite program? A previously ruined nostalgia.

“a nameless sensation which perpetually haunts the body” – from [and then, Monsters]

I have a look I want to give loss.

“I want to say goodbye, I want
time to say goodbye” – from [Skeletal, Furred]

In my dreams I am ugly. In my dreams I am not differently awake.

“and so, what then of
colossal sleep,  – from [Zero Beauty]

~

Remnant and Root:

“there is no language that can articulate what it is I suffer by, or do not suffer by- like all the sufferings suffers I am…” – from [Inactive Currency]

“/ do I even know of longing / I know of being held / “ – from [Wormwood]

“how do I
…love the very gnat of self” – from [Plox]

“holy, holy the black asterisk of wound
for the child I never was” – from [Languid Limbo]

“ ‘murmur’  I had forgotten the word
ash without meaning, death without purpose”

“-I am
a song, an urn, a stairwell” – from [Susurrus]

~

This is a book. The title, to me, is very alone…and, intimacy, the most distant of permissions.

~

barton smock, reflections on marshland moon / poems / eleanor gray / (Dink Press 2016)

book:
http://dinkpress.bigcartel.com/product/marshland-moon-by-eleanor-gray

person, eleanor gray:
http://smakka–bagms.tumblr.com/

September 26, 2016 / barton smock

exit wound

coming up
we are
with names
for time
machines

September 26, 2016 / barton smock

{–}

free mail shipping or 50% off ground shipping AND 20% off all print books on Lulu today with coupon code GETITNOW20

mine, self published, are here:
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/acolyteroad

some recent poems:

[credit sequence]

hunger my contraceptive

blood
my wristwatch

someone to boil
the mannequin’s
pacifier

~

[milk]

afraid of its shadow in a previous life. the drowning of nothing’s

orgasmic
child.

~

[coeval]

her child
cracks
in a lifeboat
egg
after egg, her memory

has
that dream
to which
the hangman
gave
his word

~

[abysm]

the untouchable redness
of certain
rabbits

the sunburnt scar on a fisherman’s arm

~

[no wolf]

I was a doorstep baby and brother a treehouse.

moon of the injured. moon of the blind.

~

[forgets]

the nude’s failure to stay awake in a laundromat. the suicide of the copycat toddler. nine types of catfish. a worm’s tongue. god’s last name. the orphan’s timekiller.

~

[spring]

mid polygraph, I lose
the baby

/ the loneliness
of its food

~

[dark earth]

animal then man then woman. god was the god of grief. one saltwater thing to another

why
a garden?

shadow

you unusable
rag

~

[his impressions of the experiment]

my closest frat brother looks at the toad and says frog motherfucker. tackles me. fact: there is a certain kind of toad that by staying still can kill a drug dog. in this country, a man can sell doves from the back of a white van. a man can run out of doves. my ghost is obsessed with caterpillars. it doesn’t matter what you say. they found that woman.

~

[breather]

infant, the sooner
than expected
search
for god.

I have this baby I’m not afraid to use.

you pretend to shoot
and I’ll pretend
to fall. we’ll make a day

of never talking.

the missing crow of thorns.

~

[imperfections]

they wanna put my teeth on a billboard. mom doesn’t care. cremate the moon.

~

[I lose you when I sleep]

I’d have gone grey
smelling
his hair
and he
to smoke
during the gospel
of the bruise

~

[mannish]

being alone never hurt anybody. I ask online about a coat hanger. in person about a stork. symbolism is dead. it’s not that kind of garden.

~

[I am, emptiness, out of breath]

in a wet dream on fire
the arsonist
fills
the mouth
he is trying
to leave

(it is not hunger that eats the horse)

I am past the age of what
in a former life
I died as, a spoon

is a fork

asleep in the hand of god

~

[the museum of minor fictions]

simpler, then

the seizure
that set
your father
to music

the baptized
bowl
of your mother’s
hair

the book I brought to burn
blank
as always

the pair deciding which hand
would come between us
which hand
would enter…

I caught the poor mask
sighing
on its own

I am ugly and you are not

~

[a dream for the blue pen in my father’s wrist]

her handwriting
knew
it was being
watched

~

[choir]

she remembered
not
his suicide
but her brother’s
cough, how it ruined

not
the scarecrow’s
silence

but the etiquette
of the crucified

~

[laconicism]

sex, make your face.

my father returned a clock
hair
fell from
a birthmark…

deaf as a housefire
my brother was raped
in two
tents, he pulled our mom

from a clown car
a tornado
died
in hell

~

[her impressions of the experiment]

his animals hiccup somewhere within the contagious yawns of god. his tumor is the crow of the ocean. the foot they hope to find me with is not yet purple. I shred a tiny pillow but your baby ain’t blind.

~

[jetsam]

a bird watches my brother eat a parrot

my new diet requires me to have
the same
dream

language is a broom

between the legs of a showered orphan
is a sponge

from the story of her stomach’s exile

~

[estimations]

the hole we’re in has disappeared. we sleep on the gospel of baby mudlung. I pray mostly for people to get hurt. I don’t have a brother. he’s all alone. sister will smoke anything. a worm from the vacuum, the lice from nostalgia. I have a tv in my room that wants to play piano. I have a toy car and a turtle. it takes forever.

~

[rune]

I burn
sticks
for dreaming
dogs

/ forgiveness

you empty
crow

~

[the red church]

I babysat for children whose mothers didn’t want to come downstairs. I was driven home by men so drunk they knew my house like a muscle. the children ate what I made. I taught boys how to fake an illness and girls how to ask for pets. I could change a diaper and smoke at the same time but then it got away.

~

[upheaval]

a mongrel circles the stump of a tree. a spider from the angel’s dream goes on to spin a caterpillar. mom slips in and out of pregnancy. it’s my first time hearing a groundhog hate itself. you won’t crawl to anyone you haven’t seen swim.

~

[no after]

and what would you have me imagine? a change of tense in a tale of abuse. a baby licking the palm of a doll. a spoon. a robot’s broken arm. a chalk outline of a worm. hunger’s tacklebox. our allergic sister’s suicide note. a calf eating its first canary.

~

[swimmer of the blue snow]

a bowl of soup bleeds to death
in the eatery
of my praying
hands