Category: Uncategorized

UNTITLED
©Chadwick Palmatier

Listening;
waiting, wanting, wishing
that it doesn’t hurt
or won’t;
ever.
I be the one
to learn, know, how
to cope.
Into a dream it becomes,
forever floating inside,
like a balloon.
Waiting to be popped…
I blow it up again.

Performed by Val Cole

[So, it began like]

So, it began like
I have a dream of the
perfect, lovely evening.

So, it began like
Well, hello.
Is this seat taken?

So, it began like
Why it’s for you.
—Thanks—smiling.

So, it began like
I’m looking
forward to
seeing The
Little Shop
of Horrors.
—So am I.

So, it began like
Boy, looks like you
really work out.

So, it began like
Yea, it’s an obsession
with me.

So, it began like
I wish I had such
a problem.

So, it began like
It looks like you’re
quite fit yourself.

So, it began like
I swim, almost
a meditative ritual.

So, it began like
—during intermission—
What’s your drink?
—I’ll have whatever
you’re having.

So, it began like
Vodka tonic with
a splash of grenadine.
—Fine by me.

So, it began like
—later—
stars bursting across
the galaxies—
I don’t live far
from here—I
don’t know why
that popped out of
my mouth.

So, it began like
No worry, I’d like
other things touching
that perfect mouth.

So, it began like
Let’s go
and I’ll make
you a double
at home.

So, it began like
Fine by me.
—eight hours later—
I say: Stay for
French toast.

So, it began like
Well, I could
just stay . . .

So, it began like
Fine by me.
—now twenty-seven
years and counting . . .

Performed by Val Cole

PRUSSIAN BLUE, by Antonia Hildebrand

There’s two ways of looking at Prussian Blue.
If you’re Vincent van Gogh you use it
to paint a starry night,
and the blue seems like any velvety night.
Rich, deep blue wrapped around everything.
The sky studded with diamonds,
the water striped with light.

But then there’s the other way.
Prussian Blue treats radiation sickness,
and you know you’ve stumbled on
another way of looking at Prussian Blue,
entirely,
when you find out that the US government
has bought vast quantities of this paint,
which is stored in a top secret facility.
All that blue, blue paint,
waiting,
for a dirty bomb,
or a full blown nuclear attack.

What would Vincent think of that?
Who would know better than him
humanity’s infinite capacity for self-destruction.
With his brain steeped in wormwood
and no friend but his brother Theo,
he knew all too well,
how human beings can set their face
against a different face.
How they can spurn and mock and attack
those who make them afraid.
As he made them afraid,
with his mad art,
and his love that was too wild,
too big for their small lives.

Antonia Hildebrand (c) 2022

Performed by Val Cole

One at a Time: For the writing class, by Bob Conder

One at a time, they drop in and say hi.
One at a time, they try not to die.
One at a time, they listen and write.
One at a time, they make the words tight.

One at a time, they listen and learn.
One at a time, to finish, they yearn.
One at a time, they explore their mind.
One at a time, the words they grind.

One at a time, they seek inspiration.
One at a time, they find admiration.
One at a time, to write; they will.
One at a time, their babies they kill.

Performed by Val Cole

Performed by Val Cole

Performed by Val Cole

Performed by Val Cole

Performed by Val Cole

The sea beyond the seas the universe beyond itself

the other creation

the invisible force pushing forward to create the poem

the poet’s invisible voice to love poetry

the invisible song of the angels

The invisible love tie of the birds to the eternal horizons

to break the walls

to break the invisible dark voice of demons

to drive away unhappiness in the midst of a sea of rubble

the invisible voice that attracts us as a magnet to the possible future

despite the sorrows

despite the ruinous wind that devours the solitudes

in spite of the sinister one was that it buried us in the sinuous mud of the most stinking wells of the earth

Despite the sorrows

the universe exists

the flower is born

time passes

the water changes course

the cool breeze of summer

relieves

the pain

The Other Creation is Not of the Sorrows

is of the angels that did not fall

and are absolved by the legitimate memory of truths

The other Creation is from the memory of the orb

that dries her tears

and writes poetry.