Two of MaryAnn's poems "Break Room" and "Three Roads Converge" -- which first appeared on this blog -- will be published in Issue No. 3 of Obsolete Magazine.
Quarterly (Four issues per year) $12.00 (includes postage and handling).
From their blog: http://obsoletemag.blogspot.com
"Obsolete Magazine is a quarterly tabloid publication in the tradition of the International Times, OZ, The East Village Other, The Berkely Barb, The Chicago Seed, The Whole Earth Catalog, PUNK!, and other great underground rags of days past....."
e-book "Metropolitan Diary" available on Amazon.com
27 February 2011
25 February 2011
Contemporary Literary Horizon, Jan.-Feb. 2011 Issue.
http://contemporaryhorizon.blogspot.com/
Some poems published in the Jan.-Feb. issue of Contemporary Literary Horizon!!
Some poems published in the Jan.-Feb. issue of Contemporary Literary Horizon!!
09 February 2011
01 February 2011
Crazed Cup
under the sink they are,
lined up, the forgotten
carafes, skewers for a
barbeque, behind a jumble
of flowerpots, paintpots, coffee-
and-teapots, the held-onto-
just-in-case, the broken
vessel, chipped, who might
just do in a pinch, and
thankful, too, we'll be, not
having that easy habit of
discarding others, the broken,
the imperfect, the slightly
cracked,
the crazing on an old cup a
map of all those days gone by
long forgotten, along with
their random imperfections,
dwarfed by the blazing of the sun,
remembering how hot it was....
lined up, the forgotten
carafes, skewers for a
barbeque, behind a jumble
of flowerpots, paintpots, coffee-
and-teapots, the held-onto-
just-in-case, the broken
vessel, chipped, who might
just do in a pinch, and
thankful, too, we'll be, not
having that easy habit of
discarding others, the broken,
the imperfect, the slightly
cracked,
the crazing on an old cup a
map of all those days gone by
long forgotten, along with
their random imperfections,
dwarfed by the blazing of the sun,
remembering how hot it was....
A Cat and A King
because the mind can be
convinced of anything at 3:58
a.m. she clings more tightly
than ever to sleep, anxious for
the dawn to set things to rights, the
towels folded for the laundry, the
coffee made and the
black dog sent on his way
without a bone to gnaw upon. And
peace falls upon the house
(momentarily), all the small
noises scrabbling inside the walls
a sort of unspeech to the unpeople
lingering about in all their
transitory glory, a housemaid
passing by a duchess (and to
be sure, a cat may look at
a king)
convinced of anything at 3:58
a.m. she clings more tightly
than ever to sleep, anxious for
the dawn to set things to rights, the
towels folded for the laundry, the
coffee made and the
black dog sent on his way
without a bone to gnaw upon. And
peace falls upon the house
(momentarily), all the small
noises scrabbling inside the walls
a sort of unspeech to the unpeople
lingering about in all their
transitory glory, a housemaid
passing by a duchess (and to
be sure, a cat may look at
a king)
Shipping Forecast
there is no connection,
no threading tissue,
between one and another,
no bother, as the dinner
gets done, chop-a-block,
in staccato steps, a
puzzle of paint-by-numbers,
ketchup-red, steak sauce-brown,
grainy-golden mustard, a dollop
of it on the spoon about to
be dashed into the sauce for the fish
with one fine wrist-movement (ah,
if all things could be so--
definite and sure)
saving her voice for after
dinner, when the clatter of
silverware straight into
the sink has faded, the
shipping forecast predicting
only minor squalls
and so
to bed
no threading tissue,
between one and another,
no bother, as the dinner
gets done, chop-a-block,
in staccato steps, a
puzzle of paint-by-numbers,
ketchup-red, steak sauce-brown,
grainy-golden mustard, a dollop
of it on the spoon about to
be dashed into the sauce for the fish
with one fine wrist-movement (ah,
if all things could be so--
definite and sure)
saving her voice for after
dinner, when the clatter of
silverware straight into
the sink has faded, the
shipping forecast predicting
only minor squalls
and so
to bed
Hitchcock's Blond Women
Hitchcock's blond women forever
frame-frozen: on a train, in a
shower, in a boat, on horseback
not always
having more fun
especially when:
hanging off national monuments,
being repeatedly stabbed, bird-beak
pecked, or
stringently psychoanalysed by
their husband (even if he is
Sean Connery)
better, so, to be
brunette!
frame-frozen: on a train, in a
shower, in a boat, on horseback
not always
having more fun
especially when:
hanging off national monuments,
being repeatedly stabbed, bird-beak
pecked, or
stringently psychoanalysed by
their husband (even if he is
Sean Connery)
better, so, to be
brunette!
Dervish
dervish whirls around the
pastel plain of the carpet
where lambs gambol,
eternally leaping over
that next hillock
turn, turn, turn, turn and
stop
on to pacing, pace, pace, pace,
pace, pace then
Stop
then to screaming, the arc rising
up and up, the
incredible crescendo of it
breaks with a bite upon
his hand,
stop
STOP
pastel plain of the carpet
where lambs gambol,
eternally leaping over
that next hillock
turn, turn, turn, turn and
stop
on to pacing, pace, pace, pace,
pace, pace then
Stop
then to screaming, the arc rising
up and up, the
incredible crescendo of it
breaks with a bite upon
his hand,
stop
STOP
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