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July 27, 2017 / barton smock

{commonplace}

as it expires today:

10% off all print books and free mail shipping today at Lulu with coupon code of BOOKSHIP17

mine, self-published, are here:

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/acolyteroad

~

some recent poems:

[cigarette gospel]

on a stage
in a beaten
field
a man
new to walking
is opening
with his hands
the belly
of a shark
that’s eaten
by word of mouth
a local
priest
whose fingernails
miss teeth
like an angel

~

[bowl and psalm]

his inner monologue made of water.

a pill
in a drop
of rain.

a rabbit on a leash. a dead bird
in a woman’s hat.

wind.

my eye for my other
oh town
of Ark.

~

[untitled]

I vandalize the outside of a church in a city designed by men with bad teeth and there I mistake a drop of blood for a penny and begin to last forever

~

[the men of left field]     for brother Noah

I think / in a past / life / my sense / of touch / was yours

mother / ain’t once / lost / while pregnant / a baseball / in the sun

thunder / is lightning’s / empty stomach

~

[I see in your newer work]

the propping up of rootless boys and the past changing only what was. your father the spinner of flea market globes. a bat in the barn with the head of a chicken. your mother returning to god the ghost you painted for death. your son wetting the bed. right of owl, left of crow.

~

[annotations for son]

a small creature was shot
stumbled
and became
my handwriting.

two of my legs
need god.

~

[the quiet that comes after a two car accident on a country road]

could strangle
an owl
cast
perhaps
as a mole
listening
to the belly
of a stopped
deer

~

[stars from a glass eye]

its gaze
a eulogy
for distance
the animal
is mostly
pity

~

[untitled]

I practice sleep, the responsible
silence

echo and ear
make
in their many
mirrors
a minor
error

anonymouse, common spelling

I have nothing
and I have

nothing
on the mailman’s
story
of the burning
stork

my son
shares a brain
with his brain
I don’t speak
to those

I tell

~

[thinning]

under the monster’s bed
a child
haunted
by normalcy
gags
on a goldfish
from the painter’s
darkroom

~

[story]

on the shell of my brother’s first turtle

the inscription

campfire
at the end
of the world

~

[impact]

as for the tree’s supposed headache, I don’t want to give it teeth.

your twin has tried to leave a dream.

~

[his body a small sorrow]

the proofreader
of grief

~

[akin]

just born and his bones go south. cigarette, first-aid, airport. off-brand invisible ink: a memoir. I want knowledge to be sadness. cassettes went away because we stopped recording god.

~

[abuse errata]

this mannequin
that we now
deliver
to the oral
loneliness
of circles
died
left-handed

~

[white movie]

death’s dog wouldn’t kill a pony
says the man only men can hear.

repeat after me
says the baby.
nothing’s publicist.

~

[you were born the day your body came for you]

photograph
what you cannot
lift

~

[element]

after
the talking
animals
of body
horror

and before
acolytes
anonymous-

the wrong
dying
baby

~

[untitled]

a movie
to father
an extra
room
where the more
are less
to feed

~

[without me]

eat
as often
as a squirrel
mad
for the ghost
of a nesting
doll

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