January 2012
9 posts
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"A Band of Owls Moved Into Town" by Zachary...
A band of owls moved into town. They shopped for groceries and ran for office, that sort of thing. It began casually. Everyone simply put up with the owls because businesses were booming and the schoolchildren’s test scores had suddenly taken a turn for the better. More and more owls, and some people too, made the move into town and the room for accommodations began to diminish. Needless to say...
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Exercise for the Weak
A helium balloon trapped in the floorboard of a basement.
I speak only when spoken to, never before or after.
Going through a drive-thru in a foreign country with a domestic car.
Nothing exists when you are not looking at it; prove me wrong.
A bullet train inside Monaco.
Irreversible clothing with tags on the outside.
I project black light when your eyelids drop.
More of the sort.
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“War, in one form or another, appeared with the first man.”
– Pres. Barack Obama
December 2011
12 posts
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“Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They drink. They leave.”
– Erik K. Auld, “Seven Bar Jokes Involving Grammar and Punctuation.”
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“This is what we want. This is all that we can do.”
– Dave Eggers
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“In 20-30 years, one of the hardest things our kids will have to do will be...”
– Unknown
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a...”
– Red Smith
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Ash Has Been Falling On Me For Far Too Long
Ash has been falling on me for far too long. That is, I’ve been too long in the dark. I’ve been sucking up the ground and rearranging it in my mouth, running it through my teeth to filter out the dirt, taking with it the footsteps we have walked, the oceans we have swam - nothing escapes me in this state of critique. Nothing furnishes my mind the way sucking the ground does.
I stick...
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November 2011
14 posts
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WatchZachary Schomburg’s poem-film for his piece “Costa Rica,” a wonderful short work of dim solace. Miamians like myself will be roused by some familiar scenic spots.
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“I get the idea that poets are paid, not by the word, but how much space they...”
– David Sedaris
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"Scary, No Scary" by Zachary Schomburg
One night, when you return to your childhood home after
a lifetime away, you’ll find it abandoned. Its
paint will be completely weathered.
It will have a significant westward lean.
There will be a hole in its roof that bats fly out of.
The old man hunched over at the front door will be prepared to give you a tour, but first he’ll ask Scary, or no scary?
You should say No...
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October 2011
12 posts
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A Certain State
In a certain state, somewhere south, you can take a mug to the ocean and scoop a glass-full of coffee straight from the boiling beach. In the same way, you can arrive at an airport holding a handful of sand and, after looking out a window, fly back home, where the coffee is in the kitchen, bitter, nothing a few teaspoons of sugar can’t fix. But in this state, water is boiled by the spaces...
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"See No Evil" by Billy Collins
No one expected all three of them to sit there on their tree stumps forever, their senses covered with their sinuous paws so as to shut out the vile, nefarious world.
As it happened, it was the one on the left who was the first to desert his post, uncupping his ears, then loping off into the orbit of rumors and lies, but also into the realm of symphonies, the sound of water tumbling over rocks...
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“In such a world there is much sadness which, of course, is joy…”
– Russell Edson’s “Antimatter”
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"On Not Finding You at Home" by Billy Collins
Usually you appear at the front door
when you hear my steps on the gravel,
but today the door was closed,
not a wisp of pale smoke from the chimney.
I peered into a window
but there was nothing but a table with a comb,
some yellow flowers in a glass of water
and dark shadows in the corners of the room.
I stood for a while under the big tree
and listened to the wind and the birds,
your...
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September 2011
1 post
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Dream Poem
Somehow, in some bizarre manner, I was able to write this short poem right after a dream I had about a year ago. I just found it on my phone, and I can still remember the sweeping glow of my Blackberry on my nightly face.
People like my music for my poetry
When I give them my poetry,
It’s not enough.
People like my poetry for my words
And when I give them my words
I become lonely;...
August 2011
11 posts
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