Daily Archives: February 10, 2018

The Under Dog by Marjon van Bruggen

I am not a silent poet

Let me sing of broken-down dogs, they wander alone in the twisted ravines of huge cities; or those dogs who have said to reject man, blinking intelligent eyes ‘Let me be with you, perhaps from our two wretchednesses we can make a kind of happiness’. Then all kind of needing dogs: the mud-stained dog, the poor dog, the homeless dog, the idling dog, the street acrobat’s dog; their instincts, like that of the poor man, the gypsy, the actor an, they wake early and seek their livelihood or run after their pleasures. I saw some of them sleep in a ruined building in the outskirts and come every day at a set hour to claim their dole at the kitchen door of always the same kind restaurant. A band of six strong well-fed strays shares the meal prepared for them by the charity of certain sexagenarian virgins, whose unclaimed hearts…

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marat, etc. by Fran Lock

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

to admire only the razor’s solicitous dexterity, here in the half-light
cast by the loving of you. unswervable blessing, this love, this timid
word i rip along its scalloped edges. i’ll observe a rare and crouching
grace for you. old woman, rendered squat with prayer. and cover all
opinionated instruments, their glow agrees a milky grief that trails
its sleeves through snow. i’ve no use for numbers now. the clock is
diagnosing midnight, loudly in the hall. this clouds the issue so, when
here you come! full of fledgling suddenness. the gulls arrive en masse.
measure of feather against your ghost. pillow, you puzzle sleep. dream,
my utmost undesire. to admire your wrist, wrapped in its own retreat.
your hair, our tamest gold. and how your eye is winkled into radiance,
so wet and black and sly. i have leaned into the loving of you. i learnt
the names, committed…

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Nomad by Jennifer Lagier

I am not a silent poet

I wake among remote dunes
when cold beach sand
ices my bones,
beard sparkles with frost.
The adopted Australian Shepard
who contributes body heat,
barks at unwanted intruders,
stirs, stiffly rises, stretches,
expects to be fed.

I panhandle what I can from commuters
paused at the freeway exit stop sign.
Score enough to purchase Red Bull,
dry kibble at the 7-11, then meander
to the wetlands gathering spot
where fellow homeless men,
shaken from coastal thickets by sunrise
congregate beneath a fallen willow.

We hoist a torn red tee shirt,
claim this bruised territory
our brief sanctuary
where we’ll bullshit, pass the bottle,
eventually pass out in the afternoon sun.

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Ellis Island Reversal by Jennifer Lagier

I am not a silent poet

Lady Liberty has been laid off,
torch extinguished,
welcome plaque censored,
toll booth installed.

Immigration has been demonized,
myth of terrorists overrunning borders
propagated by white supremacists,
spread by Faux News.

We’ve forgotten our foreign grandparents,
herded through cattle chutes, taken ashore.
Their stooped backs, straining shoulders
pushed the nation’s economy, democracy’s cogs.

Now hate-inflamed extremists
drape themselves in Confederate flags,
march through America’s corrupted heartland,
wave flaming torches, blood dripping clubs.


Jennifer Lagier has published thirteen books, co-edits the Homestead Review, helps coordinate Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium readings. Newest books: Scene of the Crime (Evening Street Press), Harbingers (Blue Light Press), Camille Abroad (FutureCycle Press). Forthcoming publications: Like a B Movie (Feb. 2018) and Camille Mobilizes (Dec. 2018), (FutureCycle Press, 2018). Website: jlagier.net

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BOONDOGGLE by Dominic Albanese

I am not a silent poet

caps can’t even
yell it
loud enough
darkest comedy show ever
in real life
it is not so funny
one side screams bout
greedy billionaires
other side screams bout
lazy poor people
caught some where
in between
Corruption…..incompetence….or just plain old
jelly bean bullshit
have you hugged your
portfolio today?

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