Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Tuesday poem #332 : J.I. Kleinberg : don't worry




J.I. Kleinberg is artist, poet, freelance writer, and co-editor of 56 Days of August (Five Oaks Press 2017) and Noisy Water: Poetry from Whatcom County, Washington (Other Mind Press, 2015). A Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee, her found poems have appeared in Diagram, Heavy Feather Review, Rise Up Review, The Tishman Review, Hedgerow, Otoliths, and elsewhere. She lives in Bellingham, Washington, USA, and blogs most days at chocolateisaverb.wordpress.com and thepoetrydepartment.wordpress.com.

The Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

Tuesday, August 06, 2019

Tuesday poem #331 : Zane Koss : two sonnets for mike chaulk



                        i.

what angles this (attach  4/21
send documents, attach
track birds on horizons  hit send;
on the deck, a pigeon encroaches
and wave it away with a hockey
stick to give precise an account
of how long we live; the mallard can,
and joins the gaps in branches; out
fishing, and wonder to share this
with you, to share this with you
send lines, and under, scout surface,
lines stuck in, log jams, go back
hit send   and we visit ,there now
where home, docx and edit   hit send ,  was

                                          and wait for, return


                        ii.

house is, this desire is, tied back to notions 4/26 5/01
of a specific labour, of a time or means
exploitation that i can’tget back to
find myself dreaming rivers on the train,
in front of my computer, talking
while we watch tv / but not that
there, here think checking the river
levels on the drive, car wheels
rattling wooden    bridge; how the
right song then could   just, one ready             , and that
was never lived up to like it felt but
if you could get that track to click just
write, and i could be back there
or there or,              here is where

                  i am attach, send, return, to go back:
go back.




Zane Koss is a non-resident alien currently living in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. He was raised on the traditional lands of the Ktunaxa (Kootenay) and Secw├ępemc (Shuswap) people. His critical and creative work can be found in the Chicago ReviewCV2Poetry is Dead, and elsewhere. He has two chapbooks of poetry, job site (Blasted Tree, 2018) and Warehouse Zone (Publication Studio Guelph, 2015), with two more forthcoming thi year with above/ground press. Zane is a doctoral candidate in the English Department at New York University, where he researches Canadian and Mexican poetry in the 1960s and 1970s. web: https://wp.nyu.edu/zanekoss/

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

Tuesday, July 30, 2019

Tuesday poem #330 : Samuel Ace : Every morning I wait for a pouch of dreams




Every morning I wait for a pouch of dreams   the scrabblings of birds and all the rushings by   my parents call from two different corners of the room   suddenly dead   martyrs in the stories of their recent lives   my mother lives in a new house   she tells me she loves the windows that look out to the sea   she shows me her kitchen   far messier than the one she had before   my father   singing and bald at twenty-five   shovels dirt or coal   I hum along with him but I’m not sure he hears   I ask my mother if she’s seen my sisters   Who? she shouts   all the hairs!   all the mouths!   she does not know the tall rangy man in overalls   my father   gone before she knows him   as he walks down a path near the river   where the after-life happens before it can be caught   where the life before is a dog or a fly or a portrait on the wall   my sisters stroll through the center of the room   one has a broken arm   the other a cane and a limp   I run to them and hide beneath their matching rose velvet gowns   I sing my father’s song up through their ribs and hear an orchestra of breathing tubes   rabbits on the floor   a hint of lime   eggs scrambling in an iron pan   I see a block of marble where the wind   a drum in the grass   a grave of killers   rises and wanders toward morning through the dark  


Samuel Ace [photo credit: Matthew Blank] Samuel Ace is a trans/genderqueer poet and sound artist. He is the author of several books, most recently Our Weather Our Sea (Black Radish), the re-issued Meet Me There: Normal Sex and Home in three days. Don’t wash., (Belladonna* Germinal Texts), and Stealth with poet Maureen Seaton. He is the recipient of the Astraea Lesbian Writer Award and the Firecracker Alternative Book Award in Poetry, as well as a two-time finalist for both the Lambda Literary Award and the National Poetry Series. Recent work can be found in Poetry, PEN America, Best American Experimental Poetry, Vinyl, and many other journals and anthologies. He currently teaches poetry and creative writing at Mount Holyoke College in western Massachusetts. www.samuelace.com.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

Tuesday, July 23, 2019

Tuesday poem #329 : Manahil Bandukwala : Sandcritter



you straddle the world
between my dreams
and waking state

on the radiator fallen
black strands crisp
become a dust that gives
you form

incept plastic sheets
and stagnant shadows between
window panes

the lever is stuck
the window half open
snow flurries phase through
mesh tears up a black spot
runs in a vertical sliver

this is where you enter

when my body
convulses my partner sleeps
on unknowingly
return to the night animals

bats sometimes fly
this part of town

my partner picks almonds out
of mixed nut packages
and sprinkles
them on the windowsill

wish for squirrel
wish for skunk
wish for black pawed
raccoon

when you are gone
i wonder

did you learn
the forms of animals



Manahil Bandukwala is an artist, poet, and writer. She uses experiences and observations to produce art with a loose and carefree style. Her upbringing and culture greatly influences her poetry. Her creative interests include painting, illustration, sculpture, and poetry.

Originally from Karachi, Pakistan, she now resides in Ottawa, Canada. She studied art in her O Levels and privately throughout her adolescence. Currently, she is an undergraduate student in the department of English at Carleton University.

Her work, both visual and written, has appeared in a number of literary magazines across Canada, including Room magazine, The Puritan, Parentheses Art, ottawater, the Ottawa Arts Review, Coven Editions, carte blanche, and other places. She was the 2019 winner of Room magazine’s Emerging Writer Award. Her poem, “Pipe Rose,” was awarded second place in the George Johnston Poetry Prize.

Manahil is on the editorial team of In/Words Magazine & Press, a small press literary and arts magazine run out of Carleton University. She hosts the monthly reading series, promotes events and news on social media, designs covers and layouts, and carries out numerous other tasks for the magazine. She is also on the editorial board of Canthius, a feminist literary magazine.

The Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan