Turkeys & coffee

We speak today of turkeys
Lyrics of fowl and hurt
Over a warm cup of coffee
And a piece of breakfast dessert.

We laugh that the cash is lacking
And the credit might make is cry
We wink link two heads asmacking
And neither of us know why

I promise a poem for the turkey
You tell me that’s how we shake the pain
I watch for an answer in a paper cup
But we both know that is insane

Come back for a bite in an hour
Come back when the hunger’s too much
Come back when the fowl all sour
On the courtyard and winters white touch

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Passion & a Creative Mind

Every Stephan is a Stephanie
or a Mike – Every day but now

Long haired and maybe
or definitely – A ridiculous prayer

Every Stephanie is a Stephan
or Michelle – Every now today

Long haired and never
or possibly – a serious dance

Every Stephan finds a Stephanie
or a Mike within

Close shaved and always
or beyond – a perfumed beauty.

Every Stephanie is a Stephan
or Michelle without

Close shaved and now
or closer – a pale smooth flesh.

We souls

sneezeWe souls that eat
Become — in the wanting
More

This is the Long storied sneeze
The held breath
The lost eye

We souls that want
Become — in the eating
More

This is the new friend
Young and kind
A seat away
But listening for passion’s sake

We souls that know
Become — in the telling
More

This is the brief meal
With once-strangers
Growing fat
Upon the laughter’s true leaning

We souls that tell
Become — in the knowing
More

 

The Man I Wish

Pawtucket falls

If I could find the man I wish I’d be
By the river where the water flows
I’m sure you’d love me more than he
I’m sure if I were him and he were me

If I could find the man I wish I’d be
before the river finds the weeping sea 
and learns what I hope no one knows
I’m sure you’d love me more than he

How could any disagree
from heaven’s mouth to hell’s sweet lows
If I could find the man I wish I’d be
– a soul worthy of my family tree?

If I were he & he me, all would see
how much you’d love me more than he
— we’ll never know, that’s how it goes
but I’ll keep searching just for show

but If I could find the man I wish I’d be
I’m sure you’d love me more than he

Find me at AWP

War is HellSaturday March 9, 2013 — I’ll be at AWP in Boston all day. If you find me, and ask nicely, I’ll post a poem about the meeting here on my blog. Whether that’s good or bad, who knows, but I’ll do it if you’re interested. The key is, you have to find me there and ask there.

A Discussion of Blindness

They blessed me,
in unison, she with her eyes to me
him turned away – both
with a smile. “Thank you.”

“That was a little one,
much smaller than usual
much smaller than the one
that blew out my carotid artery,”
I told them.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

He turned, she furrowed her brow
and let her glasses slip down
just a bit, “What happened?
How could a sneeze …”

“I Held it in. The pressure burst my carotid artery.
the ensuing blood clot went to my eye
and my retina was destroyed.”

“The lesson,” I told them, “is don’t hold it in.
Never hold it in.”

They nodded politely.

As they got up and walked by me on the left
they didn’t realize I couldn’t see them.

“Bye.” they said.

I relaxed into a sigh
and tried to forget what the world used to be.

Everyone is baggage

She wears 4 inch heels
And young men watch her move

She adjusts her glasses
And intimates the details of her favorite
Shows — or the tunes that ache
In her heart like a divorce
Too recent to let go

She is simple to love
But difficult
To carry up the stairs at night.

Issues fit into her
Like clean socks
Rolled up and ready to travel

The facade of peace
Folded up
Leaves her
Bulging

Everyone watches her
Wondering

When will she burst?

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I will be reading at the Worthen House in Lowell on Thursday, 7 March 2013.

This show, “A Streetcar Named Desire,” aims to  bring the French Quarter to Lowell, and connect them with poetry. This will be a showcase of Merrimack Valley and Mississippi Delta poets, and I’m excited to be part of an event that features local musicians and performing artists. Please come down and join me for the launch of an exciting new collaboration between Lowell and New Orleans, one that is soon sure to make a ride on Desire from Lowell to New Orleans possible for local writers and artists.

Now here’s the problem, I’m not sure what poems I should read. I’ve got 5-6 minutes to fill and 10,000 poems to fill it with. Anyone read any of my work and have a suggestion?


This AWP offsite event is free. 21+

Featuring many local poets and acts + Delta poets: Cellucci, Guthrie, Shipman

Vincent A. Cellucci is the College of Art + Design’s Communication across the Curriculum Studio Coordinator at Louisiana State University; he specializes in digital documentation, portfolio development, and teaching and writing in the art and design disciplines. Vincent received his MFA from Louisiana State University and went to Loyola University New Orleans. Last year he collaborated with the Louisiana Division of the Arts to develop and host several Artist Communication Workshops. He has a background in creative writing and the studio arts and he has been published in Exquisite Corpse, moria, New Delta Review, The Pedestal, and Presa. An Easy Place / To Die is his first book of poetry; he also contributed, edited and produced a collaborative (including Andrei Codrescu) audio novel, The Katrina Decameron, which was released on iTunes in late 2010; and he is the founder of River Writers, a downtown Baton Rouge reading series.

A native of Athens, Ohio, and graduate of Ohio University and Louisiana State University, Brock Guthrie has taught at the University of Alabama for five years. He’s a poet whose work has appeared in such places as Cimarron Review, Iron Horse, Los Angeles Review, New Ohio Review, Southern Review, and elsewhere. His first book, Contemplative Man, is forthcoming from Sibling Rivalry Press.

Chris Shipman’s poems have been included in journals such as Cimarron Review, Exquisite Corpse, La Fovea, Pedestal, and Salt Hill, among others. His is the author of Human-Carrying Flight Technology (Blaze VOX Books) and co-author with DeWitt Brinson of Super Poems (Kattywompus Press). Shipman has been featured on Verse Daily and has been twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize. He is poetry editor for DIG Magazine of Baton Rouge and teaches Creative Writing and English Lit at St. Martin’s Episcopal High School in Metairie.

A Serious Poem Admitting One of My Major Failings

Poetry Magazine has officially rejected me
eleventy one times. I am vaguely aware
this means something, but I can’t answer
what. I know it means something.

Twelve of the poems Poetry Magazine rejected
because my middle name was too loose.
I can understand that.

Nine of the poems Poetry Magazine rejected
where dedicated to mortal men unworthy
of a poem, even from a bad poet writing
bad poetry.

Seven of the poems Poetry Magazine rejected
were in regards of short greedy men
in heavy metal underwear, drunk on heavy beer.
I can live with that.

Three of the poems Poetry Magazine rejected
because they didn’t ring true. They had an air
of pomposity, or a flamingly stupid premise
awash in the me-ness of me.

The last poem that Poetry Magazine rejected
was mostly white
space – and clearly racist
since only humans were represented
(even though one was dressed up as a dragon)

I have to learn to live with that.

I am not good enough for Poetry Magazine
possibly because I am too fat or too old or
too human or too broken
or too broke

Who knows? Maybe someone with an MFA
or a pet monkey named Elizabeth
in a diaper covered in little monkeys
not named Elizabeth.

Leanne might know. Frankly, I’m sure she does,
but I don’t actually care that I’ve been rejected
so it never occurs to me to ask her.