Poem
The Concert and other poems
Robert Kramer
The Concert
You recall that certain moment during the concert
at the lakeside spa where Kafka once had stayed,
in the mountains north of Prague,
when--after the voluptuous melancholy
of a sentimental Viennese waltz--
...
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Story
Christmas in the Heart of Dixie
Patrick O'Neil
It’s hard to find a vein when you’re driving. It’s even harder to find a vein when you no longer have any. Shit, my veins used to stand out like well-torqued E strings. I could just feel around with my fingers. You kno...
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Story
Parisian Literary Imposter
bart plantenga
Luke discovered Sophie’s latest map, “LUKE’S BRAIN – XXX DESIRES & FANTASYS & BEAUCOUP DE RIEN,” taped to the perfectly fine desklamp he’d rescued from the street. Sophie hated that lamp, the kink in its aluminum...
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Story
Togetherness
J. Boyett
On Christmas morning of 2020, in Morrilton, Arkansas, enough hatred was exerted in the living room of David and Nancy Dunbar, and in a focused enough manner, to raise a Krzllgian Fleshbeast and zap the whole family into its ...
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Poem
The Beat Goes On
Ron Kolm
It was a slow night in the bookstore
so I went over to the literature section
and grabbed a copy of Celine's
Death on the Installment Plan
and took it back to my post
at the cash register.
I hid it under the counter
...
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Review
TAXI NIGHT — Poetry by Cliff Fyman — Review
Marc Olmsted
TAXI NIGHT
Poetry by Cliff Fyman
Long News Books
$15.00
I connected with Cliff Fyman some years after his association with Naropa University (then Institute) and its 1977 Summer Writing Program - a heyday-hosting of teachers like William Burroughs, Anne Waldman, Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso and Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche. I met him through then-fellow student writers Peter Marti and Vincent Zangrillo.
Although late in the book, there is this poetic statement from Fyman, and it sums up his view:
I see every object alive
and luminous
and at the same time I
see the decay and death
inherent in it’s very shining.
Cliff Fyman is essentially influenced by William Carlos Williams and his school of Objectvism, something Allen Ginsberg returned full circle to in his teaching at Naropa. Cliff learned to sit in the Buddhist style of “calm abiding,” shamatha. Add to that - he is also a vegetarian as we...
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Poem
At the Chelsea and 2 more poems
Linda Kleinbub
At the Chelsea
The cover band plays Blurred Lines
beer is cold
skin is tan
far away, my mind writes our story
I’m Nancy Spungen
we grunge around rat-infested subway cars
from CBGB to The Bitter End
we room at T...
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Poem
Three new poems by Yuko Otomo
Yuko Otomo
Albers and Morandi: Never Finished
1. seeing
I prefer to see with the closed eyes.
- j. a.
To achieve understanding, it is necessary not to see many things,
but to look ...
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Review
List Full: List Poems of Necessary Orderliness – Review
Jim Feast
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Story
Autobiography
Ron Riekki
I joined the Air Force to get money for a film that was shooting in Los Angeles. I had already been in the U.S. Marines and am the only Marine in the history of the Marines to hate the Marines. Or to be brave enough to say...
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Story
Sugar Foot
David Simmons
Chauncey liked to freebase smack with the foil positioned so that the shiny side was up. What he hoped to gain from this was self-induced Alzheimer’s. It came from burning the aluminum.
Chauncey said, “I don’t wanna...
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Poem
228
Don Yorty
A homeless woman with her legs spread on
a park bench looks ready to shit. Good God
she is pulling her pants down with paper
towels about to do it. Vacationing
anarchists are camped out by the water
fountain. It is hot...
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Poem
Pale House
William Considine
You cannot and should not enter The House of the Inquisitor.
Its pale stone frontage with carved floral ornaments is locked
And uninviting. It was built in 1780 - so late! - when this town
Was larger than any in your c...
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Story
Dahmer, Dolphy & Me
Daniel A. Brown
“Yet man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward.”
– Job (5:7)
I had never killed or cannibalized a woman but I did fear that I might be turning into a serial killer.This was 1992, a few years after Ted Bun...
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Review
The Brothers Silver: A Poet’s Novel – Review
Sparrow
The Brothers Silver: A Poet’s Novel
by Marc Jampole
Poets write novels invertedly; the language comes first, then the plot ‒ if there even is a plot. In his Acknowledgments, Marc Jampole mentions a number of poems that have been transformed into prose in The Brothers Silver. My favorite poet-novels are by Beat luminary-turned-Zen Buddhist monk Philip Whalen: Imaginary Speeches for a Brazen Head and You Didn’t Even Try. Both are gentle, sad, inconclusive portraits of San Francisco in the mid-1960s. The writing is deceptively simple, but there is a poet’s languor; a sense of the narrator watching patiently, from a great distance. Jampole writes tempestuously, with rising and flipping wordplay:
Desire to play Oberon in the school play claws at me. This hunger doesn’t rest, to say out loud in front of everyone, “At a fair vestal thronèd by the west….” To a mirror twin, I exclaim my lines for hours. Audition day I ...
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