A. D. WINANS : Media Blues
ALISON DANIEL : Hollow Bones
PRASENJIT MAITI : Sunday at Church
POETRYREPAIRS v13.01:012
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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Media Blues Hollow Bones Sunday at Church  
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A. D. WINANS
Media Blues
    Don't need the media     to tell me I'm a poet     don't need Ferlinghetti     to discover me     don't need Harper's     to publish me     da Levy dead in Cleveland     Kaufman's ashes floating inside     The belly of a whale     it's a victory of the heart     these words this poetry     don't need to run a marathon     don't need a government grant     don't need a million dollars     just want some pussy     just want to get high     just want to write these words     until the ink in the pen     runs dry     there is this certain     breed of poet     who sniffs at death     like a dog sniffs     at a fire hydrant     all too willing     to drop their pants     for a quick shot at fame     they're the paparazzi     of the literary world     hanging out at funerals     and mortuaries looking     for a photo opportunity     they write about anything     and everything     from Princess Diana     to Mother Teresa     they shuffle through life     like a shackled chaingang prisoner     draining life's blood     looking like an undertaker     dressing the dead
POETRYREPAIRS 13.01:012
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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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Media Blues Hollow Bones Sunday at Church  
POETRY requires a mature audience ENTER only if you are 18+ under 18? klik here

ALISON DANIEL
Hollow Bones
Witchcraft whitens trees, labyrinthine caves hide sandstone names. Landscapes frame speculation sorcery is a woman who turns twice to the east, twice to the west. Sophistication is a day without instinct tearing at the seams. Underneath the veil, garments washed in broad daylight dry near drifting pollen. A visitor arrives. She ties him to the bed with the silky strength of vocal cords. The thread fashions a hammock rocking quiet words silent the eve before he leaves.
POETRYREPAIRS 13.01: 012
Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato




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Media Blues Hollow Bones Sunday at Church  
POETRY requires a mature audience ENTER only if you are 18+ under 18? klik here

PRASENJIT MAITI 
Sunday at Church
Your lips like skies and your eyes like anger as I return all my rivers to myself, my rivers saline and sad and forlorn, your arms like castles and their pits like wells of honey and dew where I may swim and reflect awhile like myself your smile like skies, your lips serene your lips curled in silent rage, your smile frozen like yesterday's salmon that I chewed like vengeance the mustard dropping slow down my teeth like mercy, your smile like skies your lips like skies, your lips serene, your lips divine
POETRYREPAIRS 13.01: 012
A. D. WINANS : Media Blues
ALISON DANIEL : Hollow Bones
PRASENJIT MAITI : Sunday at Church
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