Month: October 2015

Criticism

M Train, Or Take A Shot Every Time Patti Smith Eats Toast With Coffee

As Patti Smith notes quite aptly in the first sentence of her latest book, M Train, “It’s not so easy writing about nothing.” And yet, she manages to do just that with all the poeticism and grace of a gentleman or socialite. Her scattered upbringing in Chicago, Philadelphia and, finally, Woodbury, New Jersey is perhaps what set the tone for her nomadic existence as an … Continue reading M Train, Or Take A Shot Every Time Patti Smith Eats Toast With Coffee

Genna Rivieccio3 Comments
Poetry

Peggy Aylsworth Poems, Day 3: “In Love With More Than”

Sink, if you must, in the slough of despond. Make your one and only being victim to the universal reasons for despair. I choose a level ground, carrying my own blood-red lacerations over my allotted landscape. I refuse to contaminate the country of your face, your deep, zaftig voice that drives my ardor beyond the bleak. Music is not a primer for evasion, that handy … Continue reading Peggy Aylsworth Poems, Day 3: “In Love With More Than”

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Poetry

“A View of My Roommate Views” by Zeke Greenwald

The backlit curtain hung behind your head, and there some seeping neon blurringly bled into purple and pink lightly designed, in the street, by a blue and purple shop sign; but what was more eye-catching was you; hair lit in its loops; sitting up in your bed; not a silhouette, less dark than the bedroom. Watching the Democrats’ National Debate on your phone, tired because you … Continue reading “A View of My Roommate Views” by Zeke Greenwald

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Poetry

Peggy Aylsworth Poems, Day 2: “The Magic This Time”

                  for Arash Lavian, M.D. Inhaling the early morning air, light,     soft, up the hill from the ocean, I go to be pricked. The shots enter my lower spine. A circuitous     spin through the canals this Monday.  Is the doctor’s spirit infused?  More to this poke and     wipe.  His fingers have touched the smooth skin of his infant child. Something … Continue reading Peggy Aylsworth Poems, Day 2: “The Magic This Time”

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Poetry

Scott Sherman Poems, Day 5: “Tremble”

Some days my hands shake like my heart when I first unbuttoned your bra, the same way it shakes when I pull the zipper on your ribcage. My hands, hold your heart & quake like a geriatric trapped in a nursing home, with knowledge on how to find Atlantis or his family. Your heart cannot be outstretched any further, take it before the weight topples … Continue reading Scott Sherman Poems, Day 5: “Tremble”

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Criticism

Boy Gone Wilde

On October 16th, what marks Oscar Wilde’s 161st birthday, his distinctive approach to art and life remains a force to be reckoned with. Starting from his first forays into writing, which began during his attendance at Trinity College, Wilde expressed a latent sadness through his humor, as with the poem “Hélas,” in which he laments, “To drift with every passion till my soul/Is a stringed … Continue reading Boy Gone Wilde

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Poetry

Scott Sherman Poems, Day 4: “Idols”

Nothing is pain like watching something age. I remember the family dog standing up slower, arthritis in the back legs. It made my rib cage raw. My family told me it was something that happened, so when dad began to fall asleep before seven call out of work & miss dinners I wondered how comforting it would be if he knew it was just something … Continue reading Scott Sherman Poems, Day 4: “Idols”

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Poetry

Scott Sherman Poems, Day 3: “Wind & Wire”

There’s a well in the town I grew up grown over by barbed wire, rusted. I still believe wind shakes through the metal into the stone & reservoir vibrates, sings with golden water in its mouth. The town recedes into a waking dream of Celtic lore & love. *this is the third in a five-day series of poems The Opiate is publishing by Scott Sherman. Read … Continue reading Scott Sherman Poems, Day 3: “Wind & Wire”

Genna Rivieccio2 Comments
Poetry

Scott Sherman Poems, Day 2: “Dial Tones”

Crawling through deserts at night, searching for buried dial tones to call outposts with beds of omen imbued trees. This feels enough like home, pills pull teeth down my throat to bite on the heatwaves in my bones. It’s medicinal in the softest way, enough to forget allegiances with disorders. *this is the second in a five-day series of poems The Opiate is publishing by Scott … Continue reading Scott Sherman Poems, Day 2: “Dial Tones”

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Poetry

Scott Sherman Poems, Day 1: “Home Sick”

6 A.M. Ghosts hanging on the trees outside heads impaled on mailboxes. 104° fever. I slept on the pull-out sofa while my mother cleaned upstairs. I heard furniture dragging on the floor, so I checked on her in case she was moving a chair underneath a ceiling beam in the living room. Realize how much nursing homes smelt so much like my own. Wet leaves … Continue reading Scott Sherman Poems, Day 1: “Home Sick”

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