HAL SIROWITZ : Relief from Boredom
STEVEN CROSS : 'I have avoided poetry'
AVERIL BONES : Delicious
POETRYREPAIRS v13.01:009
contemporary international poetry - for your reading pleasure,
poetry from new and established poets and essays on writing


All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge




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HAL SIROWITZ
Relief from Boredom
“In Bryn Mawr, PA, George Baird, returning from a party at 5 a.m., banged at the back door, was greeted with gunfire. Hospitalized, he learned that he had returned to the wrong house in the wrong town.” TIME Capsule/1944
I could understand why my wife was mad at me, he said, for returning home so late without calling to let her know I'd soon be arriving, but to greet me with gunfire was very unlike her. We moved to the suburbs to get away from urban violence. We both decided we would rather be bored than shot at. Boredom is only a temporary phenomenon – a good movie can stop it for a few hours. Whereas, knife scars or gunshot wounds last for the rest of your life. So when my wife started to shoot at me, all I could think about was she must have been in a Philadelphia state of mind. Unless, it wasn't her doing the shooting. But they say domestic crime is usually committed by someone you know. Besides my wife, who else did I know? We just moved in. I hadn't gotten to know the neighbors, yet. Now, I don't think they'll want to know me.
POETRYREPAIRS 13.01:009
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I have many things to write unto you but   I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian




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STEVEN CROSS
'I have avoided poetry' 
I have avoided poetry like homeowners who avoid dark shadows where roaches crawl. I cringe when I think of whispery feet scuttling through my brain, so I lock similes in simile motels where they stick and twitch. Once, one caught in a flash of neon stared at me with antennae waving, then disappeared into the walls where 100 wait. I believe it is a conspiracy. The walls silently chewed, will spew them out. 10,000 black bugs swarming like metaphors in a pool of poetry.
POETRYREPAIRS 13.01: 009
Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato




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It was the only tool I could find, so I spread out newspapers on my parquetry flooring, sat cross-legged with my back against the heater (it was winter, but Sydney style), and picked up the screw-driver. It was the only way I could be comfortable. And I knew, with secret smile, that it would be messy and Bohemian, decadent. So I poured the wine, savoured that slosh so particular to white, and lay my soft hands on a tight shell. She was sandy, and petulant, reluctant to permit my gross intrusion, but the screwdriver did its rough work, and the first oyster of two dozen was laid bare, more thrilling than a million pearls as it slipped down my pinked and eager gullet.
POETRYREPAIRS 13.01: 009
HAL SIROWITZ : Relief from Boredom
STEVEN CROSS : 'I have avoided poetry'
AVERIL BONES : Delicious
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