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Two Poems by Glen Armstrong

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Two Poems

By

Glen Armstrong

World’s Fair 9

This jumper is close to that number

This laugh is close to that throat

 

Select visitors are invited to go

Behind the bridge

 

The yacht’s naked body

Elegant no longer hidden

 

Others discuss terrorism

Their clothes almost screaming

With short-term power

o

These students see the jumper

 

Not unlike the elegant yacht

They attract a wide range

Of nature and elevation

 

They freeze in yoga

Pants / positions / swing-the-statue

Postures

o

This is an amazing thing

A husky laugh

A magazine

o

The jumper sees the students

Any other person would have

 

Been frozen in the speculative voltage

And thus have overemphasized

 

Their interest in the supernatural.

 

Midsummer 5

 

Nature has its vein of gold

Cheese its bleu network

 

This feeling will never survive

Without a secret hiding place

 

The bee has its hive

Mind its subconscious

Face its subcutaneous tissue

 

On has its off

The cough drop box

Its odd bearded brothers

 

Cod its liver oil

Hat its tin foil

 

Lonely alchemists hide

In the alley

The only place

 

Their ongoing research on hiding

Makes sense

 

South of here

 

There is work being done in the canebrake

On the afternoon shadows

Cast by silos

 

Expose any aperture

And that other world

Starts whispering.

 

Also click here to read A Brief History of Meat at Sparks of Consciousness 

 

Bio: Glen Armstrong holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and teaches writing at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. He also edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters. His work has appeared in Poetry NorthwestConduit and Cloudbank.

Aesthetic Statement: There’s a certain finality to a story that I can never quite achieve. Narrative seems so damn sure of itself, and that’s most likely why I lean toward the lyrical. The fragmented and broken still hums. It still resonates with the blow that destroyed it. Certain grammatical units remind me of my birthplace, Pontiac, Michigan, where there are scraps in the streets too abandoned and too interesting to waste time rebuilding.

 

Looking to the Edge by Mark Fleury

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Looking to the Edge

by

Mark Fleury

Looking to the edge

Of the dawn-tinged mountain

Tops’ cliffed flaming skyscape,

The ladder to the brow of the morning

Star leans against the wall between

The night and day of a new year.

I peak over the sky, blue as the part

Of a candle flame that entrances

A child in Easter Sunday’s Grace

Before what’s thanked for is consumed

For weight toward Earth’s center.

And I see it’s the same primordial pool

Of fire and flame and lust that does

Dervish whirls from a screen door

To a backyard. April is draining

Its pain of birth, thaw and rust

As though the hinges

Of soil opened to houses

In the enclosed bark of trees.

Bio: Mark Fleury lives in St. Paul, MN. He has recently had poems published in Vext Magazine, Altered Scale, Clockwise Cat, Counterexample Poetics, Medulla Review, ditch, UFO Gigolo and the Original Van Gogh’s Ear Anthology. Mark also has a poem forthcoming in the September inaugural issue of Of/ With. Mark has a new 2014 book of poetry entitled The Precious Surreal Door Opened, published by Medulla Review Publishing.

 

Poetics Statement: My writing invariably goes back to the basement apartment where I lived when I had a nervous breakdown over twenty years ago. The different parts of the apartment symbolize various parts of my psyche; for example, the door leading into the apartment is the location of the pineal gland in the center of my brain. And the window across the room, which is the title of one of my books: The 4D Window, is the sensorium screen where my worldly experiences, including poetry, take place. I consider myself to be a student of Charles Olson’s Projective Verse essay.