Saturday, April 1, 2017

Recitation/Sanjeev Sethi


Omnivorus paths sown by stealth chiseled my core
yet neurons bend the guilt knob belying my essence.
Whose imprimatur needs to endorse my being?

It took half a century of lived life to cipher this. Actualized
it seems manageable. What of the gazillion mopes this milquetoast
grappled with before matutinal thews spangled?

One is as valid as consciousness allows us. How does one keep
it skookum? By unclogging pores with the steam of sophrosyne.
When energies meld escalators move to a new address.

Magnetic/Heath Brougher



A seed is put into Earth.
A Zoologist sprouts in the garden.
The pangs of swine reverberate eternally.
Shedding leaves and bones for the Cemetery Crowd.
The digging for the xylophone went on for days
just to find that tone of finality to contradict the aforementioned eternity.
Each beer drank itself from empty without pitchfork or quarrel
to scrape the yeast from its tin can as to prevent Thrush.
The whole shelf of the sacrilegious has been bent crooked.
The nuclear blast throws atomic thorns into the omnipresent gales
that rip and unleaf the trees, etc.

tenebraed* to interval/Heller Levinson



to outposts quivering from consanguinity
considering feed-back loops sideways
extremities accumulate uninteresting interest
balance wheel as bludgeon
where
in wherewithal
is
capacious

verifiability = larceny

the target is without distance

*"tenebraed to interval" first appeared in tenebraed (Black Widow Press, 2017)

Whood Athunk/Philip Byron Oakes



Parsing oohs and aahs for triage in the afterglow implying
a slow simmer's fall from grace, in the burn baby burn days
of one's youth. Measuring time by the remnant. A freefall to
ashes, marking the moment of discovery, setting the chill
free to find its footing in the wasted won over by the breeze.
Bruising the space to breathe. Keeping the seat warm for a
synopsis of the years. Parting the ocean from a drop to drink.
An air of having weathered what's worn to suit a pretense,
brooding over the grave of the way it's supposed to be,
echoed in embers scrawling aphorisms in the midnight haunts
of high spirits. What can't be bought at an auction of the
intangibles. The pregnant pauses with bright, healthy children.
The tang's last appearance under the lights. The chances
cluttered with possibilities too numerous to seize upon. If in
photogenesis only, culled from the madding, barely foreseen
as the crests of the wave of all but humanity to the rescue.
Glutting the cavity in lieu of a heart, steered to transplant a
belief into the canon of quirks and privilege unbridled.
Feeding into a timbre that makes the song go round the
reasons it's come to be. In the broken's way of saying all is
well. Clarity's litmus flowering in the fog, as the veterans
of something unspoken yet all but said see. Momentum
towards the random finding nowhere first and home at
last. The thin air where people go to breathe.


Sedentary Fathoms section twenty-one/Felino A. Soriano



                        Nearing nearness and
                                        the philosophy
                                    of
                              warmth,
   this evening is
 an exam into
       hours and how their
     function moves and
  behaves in landscaped
          configurations, building across
                                          what
                                   bridges
                       become in
              the distant
      articulation of whole

                                         or fractioned
         soliloquies