.the story of my life. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
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Daily Archives: May 10, 2017
Minda de Vanghel by Mark Young
One of the least developed
strands in Stendahl’s unfin-
ished novel Le Rose et le Vert —
but obviously intended to be
important based on how much
of the author’s working notes
are given over to it — is an
analysis of the changing face of
vegetarian restaurants along
the hippest road in London.
Mark Young has recently had two chapbooks come out as part of William Allegrezza’s Locofo Chaps political poetry series which aims to publish 100 chaps in the first 100 days of Trump’s incumbency. The ever-increasing selection of chapbooks are downloadable from http://www.moriapoetry.com/locofo.html.
The Dance by Mark Young
Pause in the progress
What started what.
Finished. He danced
towards me. Only. Not
moving. But. From this
side movement. The
realization. The pause.
Withdraw the breath.
Again. Breathe. Resume
the dance. The progress.
[As far as I got. Ferlinghetti’s Constantly risking absurdity & death kept getting in the way.] by Mark Young
The tension doesn’t
slacken. Or if, only in
as much as the high-
wire is pushed down
by the weight of the
walker. That small
amount of give, of
sway, there to impart
a balance with the
surrounding space,
an alignment to
counteract the air.
A Line from Ruby Rose by Mark Young
We’ve handpicked the best bits,
in colors that feel comfortable
in second-hand shops & so
won’t affect the shopping ex-
perience. Even a sectarian
militant organization like ours
can be an ethical & sustainable
company, & we’ve always had
really good style. Remember,
when buying transitional pieces,
to think elastic waistbands. They
have a calming effect when used.
Panoramifications by Dan Raphael
1)
bed looks like a biscuit—did i melt into sleep
churned early, sinking or rising, hooked or unleaded
takes longer to pour than to drink
over the limit, the horizon
2)
body temperatures too hot outside the body
when i’m comfortable i must change,
when i change i ask directions
guessing north, guessing noon
don’t want to know whats hovering overhead
just how hungry is it, smuggling without swallowing
3)
No trace of the braces, once the seed tastes air
swaddling memory, her complexions reminds me of
south dakota on a honey-scented windless day
finally the hills have started to rise
for ten years i was yeast without taste buds
4)
Stores are part prison part more than we need
not everyone can do this
some would rather march than dance,
when the music starts i look for a place to lay
so many speed limits but no speedometers
5)
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One Moon One Baby by Dan Raphael
Babies too big in the moon with mom tattooing gps across skin-time in ancient script
to identify, indemnify against a transposed background of architecture
archaeologizing vases we cant make yet, teeth biting through wire with persistent questions
as charging arguments extol the raisin rain, extra virgin rain, rain we don’t want
talking to the car ready to find a road like caramel anchovies stirred in milk
without animal origin—milk from magazines, milk from hoofless mountains
An oaken chest now my chest not drawers but pigeon holes switching places
a mechanized 3D chess board without kings or bishops; with botanists, lawyers and djs,
we don’t know how the pieces move, when the board unfolds, gps for gypsys
where motor homes solar winds turn a field into a market—
market intelligence, market humor, i subscribe with a genome, the interest is mutation
We’ll be out of bread tomorrow when the bakery’s on…
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