Tuesday, July 09, 2024

Tuesday poem #588 : John Elizabeth Stintzi : (IT IS HARD NOT TO) ENVY THE CORPSE



It is hard not to envy the corpse
of the roach I imagine

Kafka studying, prodding,

dreaming of enlarging to Gregor’s

living tomb. How it must weigh,

this anonymous legacy—

how immortal the hard back,

segmented legs and the wings

(never used). These days,

I feel like a roach and hope

one day my own murder

might be made so beautiful

by some small, sad God.

Use my belly. Collage my limbs.

Make of my pathetic scuttling

some meager, mournful tune.



John Elizabeth Stintzi (they/she) is an award winning writer, cartoonist, and artist. They are the author of the novels My Volcano and Vanishing Monuments, the poetry collection Junebat, the poetry chapbooks Flamingos in the Greenhouse and Plough Forward the Higgs Field, and the forthcoming short story collection Bad Houses. Their work has appeared in Ploughshares, The Malahat Review, Kenyon Review, and Best Canadian Poetry. They are currently at work illustrating their first graphic novel: Automaton Deactivation Bureau.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

Tuesday, July 02, 2024

Tuesday poem #587 : Concetta Principe : TULIPS




In the dream our lips. In the boat there was water folding in. close to the house there were arms broad enough. In the mind there is a closeness. In the face there are two lips. In the house the tulips lose their petals and drip pollen thoughts. In the jar there is coffee and tulips. In the heart there is a breaking apart. In the dream their lips were close enough.





Concetta Principe is a writer of poetry, fiction and creative non-fiction, as well as scholarship on trauma and literature, living with a disability. Her current poetry collection, Disorder, appeared with Gordon Hill Press in the spring of 2024. Her most recent creative non-fiction project, Discipline N. V: A Lyric Memoir, was published by Palimpsest Press in 2023. Her poetry collection, This Real was longlisted for the Raymond Souster Award in 2017 and her first book of poetry, Interference won the Bressani Award for poetry, 2000. She edited a special issue “Lacan Now” for English Studies in Canada. She teaches at Trent university.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

Tuesday, June 25, 2024

Tuesday poem #586 : Adam Beardsworth : Rift



When the black spine broke
the surface
a rift opened in the world.

Out fell the lance and flensing knife,
the harpoon, trailing leagues of hand line.
Out fell the catcher boats smashed to
kindling, fuel for the try pot furnace,
which fell out too, followed by
the first mate's shit-eating grin,
his bull whip in a rat's nest.
Bow-first a breaker heaved out the crippled
whaler, masts cracked by sodden sails, then
for a moment, silence

before a half-drowned howl spat out the
captain feet first.
          He belched and out came the spy glass.
          He belched the compass and map.
          He belched again so wide this time
          his jaw unhinged.
                               Out swam the
          whale, smiling.





Adam Beardsworth is the author of No Place Like (Gaspereau, 2023) and the critical book Confessional Poetry in the Cold War: The Poetics of Doublespeak. He is the editor of Horseshoe Literary Magazine, and the founder/organizer of the Horseshoe Literary Festival. He teaches literature at Memorial University’s Grenfell Campus in Corner Brook, Newfoundland and Labrador.

The Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan