TANYA BARTEL : Harbour
ALEX STOLIS : St. Joseph's Bridge
054POETQ3 : Room 1603
POETRYREPAIRS v13,05:054
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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John Trumbull Surrender of Lord Cornwallis Art Print Poster
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Harbour St. Joseph's Bridge Room 1603


TANYA BARTEL
Harbour
I was christened like a new ship when I was on the ocean alone. You smashed a champagne bottle across my face; I sparkled with glass and was beautiful. The pain that I harbour is protected in the satin folds of my memory. I sail on, I sail on without you-- my past a golden starfish hurtling to the depths.
POETRYREPAIRS 13,05:054
I have many things to write unto you but I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian

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Proud to be an American
Proud to be an...

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Harbour St. Joseph's Bridge Room 1603


ALEX STOLIS
St. Joseph's Bridge
Janie, with her amphetamine eyes, plastic blue pearl necklace and dimestore tiara paces in liquid silence. She has a date with Jesus; he drives a '65 Mustang rose tattoo on his chest. Mel, pensive and deliberate, paints eyelashes on paper dolls cut from brown bags. Lines them in alphabetical order, her children from a previous life. Angela, draws Crayola stick-figures until dawn, green hair, purple eyes. Sings lullabies to shadow puppets in the window, cups her hands, feeds imaginary swallows. Lisa, gold-trim hair and carnival laughter shuffles her pills when the nurse isn't looking, pretends to be awake when she hears the crush of paper mache starched uniforms. Doctors with flat faces, cold hands prescribe daily doses of amnesia, mouths sewn shut. Visitors day is an empty book, pages filled with bridge. They play until the dinner bell chimes them into movement.
POETRYREPAIRS 13.05: 054
Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato

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Wings Over America Air Corps U.S. Army WWII War Propaganda Art Print Poster
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Harbour St. Joseph's Bridge Room 1603


JIM BORING
Room 1603
the hotel is poor relative clean through three tall windows the room looks east over the old city toward the gulf languid ceiling fans stir the listless artificial air and just outside a black wasp fusses with the mortar drowsy dawn in pink and gray chiffon stretches and rises behind the mist shows herself in all her bruised beauty at home just now in sleep she stirs moves her hand on the empty sheet.
POETRYREPAIRS 13,05: 054
Kerala, India
Kerala, India
Olivier Föllmi
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TANYA BARTEL : Harbour
ALEX STOLIS : St. Joseph's Bridge
054POETQ3 : Room 1603


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