Alexis Choi is attending Seoul International School in Seoul, South Korea. This is her first time submitting her artwork to a larger audience, and she is looking forward to receiving feedback.
0 Comments
A MAN WHO’S NOT AT HOMEAs those eyes peer intently at me,
I expect to find somebody home. I call out his name, gently rub the back of his hand, but no word answers the door I have more of him in my apartment than he does in his body – the old photographs, the yellowed newspaper clippings, the awards, the letters. Yet here, he cracks his knuckles, wheezes, snaps his jaw. Sounds echo through his empty rooms. Formation · Oneyou want something with an open parenthetical
painted green outside • subject inhale monosyllable and its weight do not stress this nimbus I put on I would flow the delta of these first days lace creases surnames when they come close they runnel a little B1919+21after the cover of Joy Division’s “Unknown Pleasures” I breathe like a pulsar
I stand still & airless ready to be picked up by the scruff of my neck I spin so regularly my dizzy spells catch up with your blink I taste the carpet hoping that I will reach you in the darkest pockets of the universe when I fall I leave smaller versions of me like a supernova explosion in Lilliput if I look up I see a ball of dust & acne instead of the sun if I look down I see my veinwork spooling into yours eighty wiggly lines a black & white data graph of me staying Nice Buggy HunchSeated ushers
I've been a pith buddy bested other utters Ouzo out the edges A fresh intrusion notifying of fudge Pretty thinking, huh Edward Michael Supranowicz is the grandson of Irish and Russian/Ukrainian immigrants. He grew up on a small farm in Appalachia. He has a grad background in painting and printmaking. Some of his artwork has recently or will soon appear in Fish Food, Streetlight, Another Chicago Magazine, The Door Is A Jar, The Phoenix, and The Harvard Advocate. Edward is also a published poet who has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize multiple times.
THE LOTUS EATEROf all the fiends Ulysses faced,
most hideous and insidiously placed was a compulsion, first undetected, later injected. Knowing his strengths, his hopes, his weaknesses (one), it tugged not at him, but at his son. The suitors' lust extinguished, Telemachus teetered, bored by sub-urban tedium and ennui, he sought solace and found it, with the Lotus Eaters, trading his armor for the pleasures of pharma. Oxy 20s, 30s, 40s, the escalation quick and easy, blissful devastation. The blight, invited, invaded. Young and old, they braved the cold, sold all they owned, for a soujourn to a summit few survey and fewer survive. It's a long way down. They don't fall, they plummet. Odysseus, seeking salvation for his son, casts about gamely, but vainly. Which foe can he vanquish, which sorceress plead with? He does not bow to acceptance, but remorse? Of course. Maybe if he'd stayed, the boy wouldn't have strayed? No, addiction arose only after his arrival. All that matters is survival, to bring this to a halt. But was he as a father, then, at fault? "No," Penelope soothes, "this is hateful fate." The implication plain, Ithaca's favored son debates which God or Goddess he must kill. And he will do it, Telemachus thinks, pausing on the edge of the needle prick. Then, the syringe like a dagger in. I am sick, he perceives, a liability to family and those who love me. I must flee, escape this labyrinth—but wait, only Theseus achieved that trick. The Solemn Oaths and Fair Assurances of Coopey FallsSay what you will about the passage of time,
But with it I’ve learned that when a force Of nature, instructed (I know not how) in Dancing a two-faced gavotte, begins to think About God, it begins to think. At Angel’s Rest, I asked, “What kind of empathy is this,” While looking down on the Columbia River Gorge’s empire. I’m sure the angels meant No disrespect by not responding. Cognition Grew less modest. The view molested air Infused with cognac’s repetition, a sort of Power plant for prayers. We can’t discount The possibility that every higher call to good Available to hear up there – as numerous as The laws that fill the corruption of a nation’s Soul – will go unheeded, when the hikers Overrate their ears, and underrate both love And soap. The sky was ambitious of fame; The Faraday constant was constantly crossing Itself. Pretty Boy Floyd would blow some Cash to see the riverbank from there at sunset. To understand irrational behavior or an odd Belief, just look into that person’s altar; any Idols there, it doesn’t matter which, provide Your answer. I worship now at heaven’s coat Check. Coopey Creek was strange, but can’t- Miss stuff was stranger; I must’ve seemed Like a lion tamer biting his nails to the eagles Overhead. (“Be patient, little one; that’s by Design,” is what they’d say, if they could Hear my stony mind and touch my sandy Mood today.) Propaganda, with oars and Sails, departed for the moon. Envy, without Spears or bows, did something only freak- Azoids would do to feel superior; I’ll not Pervert the trail’s intent by going into detail. Everyone edits everything, every chance They get, but this memory’s in the big Leagues now; a cedar cathedral. I sold my Hatred of higher standards, as if I was An arms dealer, to the clouds. Nights Without a strong foundation are exhausting. The grass was very dry up there; winter, Leading up to that day, had been a real barn Burner. Fish anointed that day with honey. THE DREAM THIEF’S MISTAKES
Laszlo Aranyi (Frater Azmon) poet, anarchist, occultist from Hungary. Earlier books: (szellem)válaszok, A Nap és Holderők egyensúlya . New: Kiterített rókabőr. English poems published: Quail Bell Magazine, Lumin Journal, Moonchild Magazine, Scum Gentry Magazine, Pussy Magic, The Zen Space, Crêpe & Penn, Briars Lit, Sage Cigarettes Magazine, Theta Wave, Cape Magazine, Neuro Logical, The Daily Drunk Mag, Unpublishable Zine, Melbourne Culture Corner, Beir Bua Journal, Crown & Pen, Dead Fern Press, Coven Poetry Journal, Journal of Erato, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Spillover Magazine, Punk Noir, Nymphs Literary Journal, Synchronized Chaos, Impspired Magazine, Fugitives & Futurists, The Dope Fiend Daily, Mausoleum Press, Nine Magazines, Hearth & Coffin Literary Journal, Our Poetry Archive (OPA), Juniper Literary Magazine, Feral Dove Magazine, Alternate Route, CENTRE FOR EXPERIMENTAL ONTOLOGY, Bullshit Lit Magazine, Misery tourism, Terror House Press, Journal of Expressive Writing, APOCALYPSE CONFIDENTIAL, WordCity Literary Journal, Wilder Literature Magazine, Roadside Raven Review, Death'sDormantDaughter, Rasputin, Amphora Magazine, THIN SLICE ANXIETY, FLEAS ON THE DOG, Dumpster Fire Press, Horror Sleaze Trash Magazine, Outcast Press, DOGZPLOT Magazine, BLACK STONE / WHITE STONE, Impractical Things Magazine, Medusa's Kitchen, Beatnik Cowboy, LET’S STAB CAESAR!, THE PEACH Magazine, FATHERFATHER Magazine, Gorko Gazette, Jupiter Review, Word For/Word Magazine, Poetry As Promised Lit Mag. Known spiritualist mediums, art and explores the relationship between magic.
|
|