random thoughts for a second chance

Brilliance
High energy
Running on steroids
She always had it her way
Me, I’m alone

* * *

Carrot pancakes for lost drivers
Ban processed food
Like she knew
Me, I’m always wrong
Never said a word about it
Oh, dear
Make yourself at home
I want you at my doorsteps
Until I want you no more

* * *

Do you remember Mount Pleasant?
Our season in the sky
Cycling Rock Creek
One summer worth all the winters
We have been apart since

Herbal aroma
The farmers' market
Feeling it would all last
Until our scars completely disappeared
Almost

All we needed was a second chance

* * *

It was a test, are you apt as pet?
Somebody else’s wet nurse?
And her parents were as far away as they could be

* * *

Hello Lily
Welcome to this world
Guidance not provided


tristan bellamy (Richmond, VA, 1972)

it

oh boy
that was it

a spark
then
you






ava grünberg (New York, NY, 1971)

sardonic beast

sardonic beast
I wanted beauty
plain grass and stretching motorways
green pellets
irregular yarns
and homesick yearning

a cynic with no mercy
your average Joe on dope and welfare
pharmacy discounts
recession affecting librarian libido
Rochester becoming a far away, distant place
a nightmare

sardonic beast
I wanted knowledge
chicory, tagged down prices and a myspace angel
of gorgeous mischief and souped-up innuendo
a blind spot in my résumé
ancient love becoming pale, dead reflection on a mirror

least but not last remains the poetry
the willing rumble and seismic rattle
of an old-fashioned pretense seeking beauty and knowledge
a block party of two in a town with no neighbors
The ultimate board game that becomes a tapestry
a final stanza where you can use the word Americana
ravaged and bitten here and there, scorned fabric
suffering yet from another uptight moth
laying eggs in the fanciest corner,
Proud of her location, location, location

go try again, ask for a second chance
sardonic beast in quest for knowledge, beauty, misses the point completely
bestowed on a linear, broadband curse
picky
Somewhat lost
heating up old stew in the mist
the limited visibility of toaster, coffee
a final plea and a sketchbook

I miss the point
still wondering what brought us up to here
and how we beat the crap out of each other
for no apparent good reason


brian hilton (Cambridge, MA, 1978)

The Anthony Hecht Poetry Prize 2009

The Waywiser Press is now accepting submissions of poetry manuscripts for the fifth annual Anthony Hecht Poetry Prize, named after Anthony Hecht (New York City, NY, 1923–Washington, DC, 2004), American poet and essayist, winner of a Pulitzer Prize and inventor of the double dactyl, a humorous poetic form which begins with two three-syllable nonsense words such as "Higgledy, piggledy."

Entrants must be at least 18 years of age and may not have published more than one previous collection of poems. Manuscripts must be written in English. There is an entry fee of $25 for residents of the USA and £15 for entrants in the rest of the world. Read the full guidelines here.

Prizes:

The winner receives $ 3,000 or £ 1,750 and publication of the winning manuscript by Waywiser Press, both in the United States and in the United Kingdom.

Postmark deadline: December 1st, 2009.


Further reading:

Times Topics: Anthony Hecht (The New York Times)

Anthony Hecht at poets.org, The Poetry Foundation and the English Department at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign

fat girl on fashion

I stick to pants, avoiding pleated fronts.
I require pockets—places to put my phone
and keys—because purses have straps
that are too short, that leave the zippers
to cut into my armpit or
if I go with a longer strap that drapes
across my chest, the mouth of the bag
chews at the bottom of my breast.

When I wear a skirt I have to make preparations.
First, the skirt has to cover the stomach.
Then, I powder up my thighs to reduce friction.
Now, they have invented a gel powder
that not only soothes the skin but it softens
the little tags of flesh that have extruded,
matching on each like, like doglegs.


jessie carty (Portsmouth, VA, 1975)

a date gone bad

I'm drunk and I can't hold an erection
She's fat and she's naked in my bed
I say 'you are fat'
And she starts crying

I feel like a total jerk
She's fat, she's naked in my bed and now
She's crying as well
My timid hard-on of course disappears

Wait, I meant it like something sweet
Like, Winnie the Pooh is fat and he is cute
She won't take that bullshit
It's of course drunk blabber I just made up

She's fat
She's naked
She's crying
But she ain't dumb

I start sucking her nipples
Pink, extra large
I get aroused
She says nothing

When my erection is decent
I try to go for her
And then she kills all inspiration again
I don't lubricate well, she says

Fuck you, I say, you fat pig
She cries again
It feels like ages there
And then
She gets dressed and leaves

I'm drunk
I don’t even feel like jerking off
I go back to my bed naked
I fall asleep and try to forget


ian svensson (Detroit, MI, 1974)

pandora, december

Pandora’s outside smoking a cigarette.
Hope will be a moment.

"My hands are cold, Pandora,
What will you give me in return?"

I will write each sentence with a different pen.

"What will I receive in return?
Is this you or your brother"

Epimetheus opened the box,
I will do what my brother has not.

Scilicet ut speres nil nisi quad liceat.

"Hope should not be directed toward
that which is forbidden."

*

Begin by speaking.

"Here is the elemental--
The fire," Pandora says.

We were created from fire

Here is an anchor,
you may feel its weight upon you.

Here are the curves to shape,
"Each line has a point."

This is how I will graph the elemental

I will take your X.
(Here-- a beginning.)

I will remove my Y.
(Here-- an ending.)

"Pandora, where are the numbers?
What is the count of feeling?"

Pandora watches,
Hope delays.

This is the first step, Pandora says.

Hope cannot fail, she says.

Pandora on the couch,
chasing shadows on the wall.

Hope is still in delay, standing.

The image has not washed out.
-only it’s been delayed.
-only the shape is.
-only an X and a Y.

To forgive is to take away.
To forgive is to steal.

To forgive is to remove the lid
but do not cast it aside, Pandora

Hope is what you were given.


gregory brown (Fort Ord, CA, 1977)