Mother Star By Shawn McClure

The body is composed,
enclosed,
perfect

Movements are observed
regarded,
taken up

Time is a convoluted
skein
Within

Most living cells contain
rows of
young bodies

In the form of a star:
divergent
limbs,

each with its own space,
daughters in cells furnished with
scarlet glass

 

Source Text: Gray’s Anatomy, pages 1-5, Henry Gray, F.R.S.

Method: I made this poem by choosing my favorite words and phrases that seem to connect in some unexpected meaningful way. I chose them from across five pages of text. I left the words in the same order that they appear, like an erasure. I like to think my poem is somewhere in the mind of any person who has ever read the book.

Shawn McClure is a visual artist and writer who lives in central New Jersey. Her writing has appeared in Kindred Magazine, Entropy, Noble/Gas Qtrly, and other places around the web.

Father Marries His Four Daughters Off Like Fine Wine By Suzanne Biro

“Wine is bottled poetry … ” ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Verra

Substantial broad
Built to last
Meters in the hip
No surprise when one considers it was great-aunt Irma
who wrote the international bestseller, The Joy of Cooking
At once massive and elegant
Exceptional voluptuous proportionality
with the heft to mature with grace
A nice dash of spice adds intrigue
but immediately blows off
Healthy up front
Hold on and grip
a handful of warm
traditional rustic style
There is plenty to look forward to
over the coming decade

Temperance

Is bright-looking, modern, finely sculpted
Beautiful now but needs another two or three years to soften
Still a bit youthfully clenched
Underpinning suggests this will reward some patience
Rather monolithic
young and tightly wound
A taut skin frame, a flicker of pale transparency
Nervous
Powerfully nutty
with a little more brisk acidity and briny character
than is typically the case
Will need time, will be a hit
A big time winner
Worth following through
A solid indication it is going to be
out and out exciting

Carmen-ere

Mollydooker, but no worries,
there’s nothing sinister going on
Drop-dead gorgeous, a knockout
Dark, lush mouth
Fitting for pleasure seekers
Leather and tobacco lace together
A good choice for variety, for something really special
All the exotic you could want
And game
there’s no need to wait
A brief 3 hours of skin contact prior to pressing
after that not much else is done other than a racking off
kick-ass full throttle frothy fun
invigoratingly long penetration
velvety and sexy  and just
very, very good

Rose

My favourite of the line-up
Our greatest love
You’ll be smitten too
Bubbles with the romance
Refreshingly unadorned and comes across as pure and elegant
Fine-boned, smooth and stylish
Not a hair out of place
Filled with pretty highlights of wild edge
you know, to make the heart grow fonder
Fresh with a bit sauvage, not of musk but of a wild tropical flower
like summer honeysuckle
But also remains just grounded enough
Easy to love
despite the desire over and over
Will provide pleasure
Longevity and pleasure are assured

 

Source: Vintages Catalogue No. 573, October 17th, 2015; Catalogue No. 580, February 6, 2016; Catalogue No. 581 February 20th, 2016.(http://www.vintages.com/index.shtml)

Method: The method I used for crafting this poem (or series of four related poems) was straightforward.  I am a wine lover and I regularly read the Vintages magazine delivered to my doorstep twice monthly.  I noticed that the descriptions of wines were decidedly sexy and female-oriented; I wondered if the bias toward women might be up-played through poetry using humour and characterization.  The result is this submission.  It was fun creating it.

Suzanne Biro’s writing was shortlisted in the 2015 SLS Montreal Flash Fiction Contest and the 2016 Little Bird Contest. She blogs, parents, and works as a professional health researcher.

Self in Rubble by Peter Wortsman

not many
sustain
perception
thrown into
gloom and disrepair
the aftermath
vapor
trails
aimless
floating
seething
undernourished
to the end

Source: The New York Times

Method: I revert to cut-ups when I am too distracted, depressed, dumbfounded or deranged to write coherently and just feel like letting loose. I circle the words that catch my eye for whatever reason and then cut them out and rearrange them on the page. My method is to read a text vertically, latching onto words and phrases as the eye runs down the page and linking them together by what I would call magnetic imminence. I let it lead me with little intent. The result is often amusing, sometimes irreverent, occasionally poetic.

Peter Wortsman is the author, most recently, of a novel “Cold Earth Wanderers” (Pelekinesis, 2014); a travel memoir “Ghost Dance in Berlin” (Travelers Tales, 2013)—recipient of a 2014 Independent Publishers Book Award (IPPY); an anthology which he compiled, edited and translated “Tales of the German Imagination” (Penguin Classics, 2013); and a collection of short prose “Footprints in Wet Cement” (Pelekinesis, forthcoming in 2017).

Eleven Questions By Christopher Iacono

Know that you are in my heart, but what even is this shirt?
Soak in the sweetness.

Are eReaders really green?
So much winter white it feels like a fake hospital.

Big game?
German expressionist epic.

How will he spin it?
Language must be played with.

Feeling social?
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.

Can you solve the puzzles?
The wind is a fickle mistress.

How do you pick your “favorite” books?
Draw from a deep well.

Isn’t this the best sign?
“Eyes on stalks” and “ice shifts at the poles” are my fave lines.

Love Vegas?
Some things make your eyes sparkle.

Broken dragon?
At Lincoln’s waffle shop.

Don’t you remember how we embraced his virile sensuality?
She says she doesn’t want to fuckin’ talk to you.

 

Source: Various tweets posted January 19-20, 2017.

Method: To craft this poem, I took questions from tweets and then answered them using text from other tweets.

Christopher Iacono lives with his wife and son in Massachusetts. You can learn more about him at cuckoobirds.org.

Limited at Either End By Rebeka Sara Szigethy

Little is said about durability.

In its very limitedness
Lord in the beauty and holiness
may be entirely ignorant.

They admit that

the Lord will guarantee
twenty-five years for organs.
It predicts two results:

The subject is limited at either end
so to be prepared,
in due time, a much larger space has to be considered.

So far as I am aware,
they should,
for special circumstances of emergency,
carefully examine the merits of the various systems.

 


Source: The Organ of Tradition by Noel A. Bonavia-Hunt (London: Roberts, 1939)

Method: Regardless of the type of source I am using, I normally try to limit the amount of source text to 1-2 pages; this allows and also slightly forces me to read and understand the source more thoroughly and closely. Usually I quickly pick a few phrases that will serve as the skeleton of my poem, the real challenge always comes at the end: by that time the poem has a life of its own, and I must finish it so that the rhythm of images and thoughts is maintained, while still restrained to the same couple of pages I initially chose.

Rebeka Sara Szigethy is a Hungarian artist living in Folkestone, UK. She holds an MA in Hungarian Language & Literature, currently studies Fine Art at the University for the Creative Arts in Canterbury, and also has certificates in Printmaking and Journalism. Her poetic and scholarly work (both in English and in Hungarian) has been published in various journals and collections since 2006. She is the co-founder of the creative hub The Drawer Project, where she leads creative workshops, most recently on found poetry at the Folkestone Book Festival 2016.