Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Mary-Kim Arnold

Conditional Self

if we meet in the desert and if we let the scent of creosote enter us

and if we spread our banquet beneath the flat blue sky and cry out yes

and if we let the ghost lights wink over us

as we open ourselves to the night and cry out yes

and if you take me into your mouth

and if my hipbones rise to meet you

and if your teeth and if your tongue

and if my hands and if my mouth

and if I cry out yes         and if you call my name

and if the lights go dark         and if we lose our breath

and if we cry out yes         and if we cry out yes

and if we cry out then             who will we be then

and if then

and if then

Mary-Kim Arnold's short fiction has appeared at Tin House (online), Wigleaf, Swarm Quaterly, and The Pinch. Her poems have been published in Day One, Year One: Best of 2014, burntdistrict, Two Serious Ladies, Sundog Lit, and elsewhere. She has also written for HTML Giant, The Lit Pub, and The Rumpus, where she is Essays Editor. Mary-Kim received her MFA in Fiction from Brown University and is studying poetry at the Vermont College of Fine Arts. She plays bass in the band WORKING and lives in Rhode Island with her husband and children.

Wednesday, January 07, 2015

Michael Martin Shea

from Hermeneutics

caught        the narrative thread                                            slicing potatoes
                             [these are the meals I would make you]
              He says go away to his phone!
                                                            each kitchen a form of the eternal kitchen
Madison is a place where
              [composing by the sink]                              let me encode you
in some of my symbols                                                            CHRIST IS REAL BRO
                             hogging the requisite pain pills
and pumping in bedroom music                             excitement is the thing itself
                                          no more brides in the schoolyard
                             [and my heart it goes all the way down]

Michael Martin Shea lives in Las Vegas, Nevada. A 2014 Fulbright Fellow to Argentina, his poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Colorado Review, Indiana Review, Jubilat, Pleiades, Tender-Loin, and elsewhere.