In
This Issue
Ceraolo
Coates
Davis
Dee
Dell
Franke
Gage
Leon
Walker
Yancey
Zirkle
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May
2004 * Issue 11
"Don't cling to
anything and don't reject anything. Let come what comes, and
accomodate yourself to that, whatever it is. If good mental
images arise, that is fine. If bad mental images arise, that
is fine, too. Look on all of it as equal, and make yourself
comfortable with whatever happens. Don't fight with what you
experience, just observe it all mindfully."
--Bhante Henepola Gunaratana, "Mindfulness
in Plain English"
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The
City Monster Issue Features
 The
Photography of Pedro Dell - a surrealistic series of
photos including Quay 55 before the "rehab"
Newcomers
Virgin City Poets
Carey Balton Yancey, Gina
Davis, Dexter
Zirkle
Logic
for the best next is from science's
View of our
origin The Big Bang -- Yancey |
Some
Snips
| I
Stand Tired in the Junkyard Placenta of Her Birthday
- Leon |
Yellow
tape- police line- do not cross
Poets cross the line between the living and the
dead
and bring back images they hold up to us
Dare to cross that line- they cry- dare to cross
that line
Draw a line down the center of your life
Dissect it, examine it
Some prefer to stand outside and watch, or look
away
Wake up- death wakes you up- I say
I like to keep death in mind -
dee |
This
poem's colon
is taking care of
its own business. - Franke |
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denise dee
I walk
under a
wedding band of gulls
I walk
the inside shifts like a tilt a whirl
I have come to Cleveland to wed
I stand on a cliff over the river
it is winter and wild white snow
falls on my coat
my teeth chatter
my dead father floats
down the river
towards the furnace of the
steel mill
his bones will
become a car, a bed frame,
for someone else
who might right now
be looking out their window
I try to read the signs
but I have no one to talk to
as I walk Literary, Professor, College
I see black telephone wires
criss cross the sky
from Pittsburgh to San Francisco
to Cleveland
I have come to wed
the band will play polkas
my father smiled as he said
I will dance on your grave
to those he disliked
bitter seeped through the crack
like salt on Pittsburghs sidewalks
he will not walk me down the aisle
to give me away
he gave me away at my birth
to the fairies, to the muse, to the story
to the silence
now I sit and wonder
what sort of bitter
will we drink
for our wedding toast?
denise
dee 2003
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