Sending Work Out Again
Today I've been gathering up poems and writing cover letters to send out my work again. It's been awhile and there will most likely be rejections but hey, you have to try. I'm sending my work to the Alaska Quarterly Review, The Antioch Review, Chelsea, the Colorado Review, and Court Green. Wish me luck!
Here's a poem for the day, this one's for my lovely poet, Erin B.:
You, a Tentative Title
~for Erin
The sign said Mississippi River.
The river was choppy, frigid.
This is October. This is you on the edge.
This is revolving around some perfect
sphere. You need a loan, you need a vice.
Remember when we had a picnic
at the river? You wore a scarf, I had a cold.
You’ll know when it’s time for a break,
just look to the sky and realize
blue is the default color.
This is your epic, this is your life
coded out on paper, all ones and zeros.
I’ve seen God in your eyes, really I have.
He’s there having tea and biscuits making
plans for hurricane season.
You’ll know when I’m stretching the truth
like a red balloon, just realize Jesus
walked on water. Can you see him in his
gown and beard walking across
the mighty Mississippi? Leaving Rock Island
for Davenport, here where this water
flows east to west. Trailing his gown across
muddy water. On the way down
we laugh, we know that people cannot
walk on water. Yet others believe this much.
They kneel and pray for their souls.
We take it in stride. You, my friend,
are all soul and bones. Rapture in egg
shape. Coffee and cigarettes, always.
This is you in contemplation.
This is my watching you: heavy, curly
and quiet. This is our dream: journals,
corpses, more coffee and equal cigarettes.
Take down all that you desire and reel in it.
Just reel in it.
Here's a poem for the day, this one's for my lovely poet, Erin B.:
You, a Tentative Title
~for Erin
The sign said Mississippi River.
The river was choppy, frigid.
This is October. This is you on the edge.
This is revolving around some perfect
sphere. You need a loan, you need a vice.
Remember when we had a picnic
at the river? You wore a scarf, I had a cold.
You’ll know when it’s time for a break,
just look to the sky and realize
blue is the default color.
This is your epic, this is your life
coded out on paper, all ones and zeros.
I’ve seen God in your eyes, really I have.
He’s there having tea and biscuits making
plans for hurricane season.
You’ll know when I’m stretching the truth
like a red balloon, just realize Jesus
walked on water. Can you see him in his
gown and beard walking across
the mighty Mississippi? Leaving Rock Island
for Davenport, here where this water
flows east to west. Trailing his gown across
muddy water. On the way down
we laugh, we know that people cannot
walk on water. Yet others believe this much.
They kneel and pray for their souls.
We take it in stride. You, my friend,
are all soul and bones. Rapture in egg
shape. Coffee and cigarettes, always.
This is you in contemplation.
This is my watching you: heavy, curly
and quiet. This is our dream: journals,
corpses, more coffee and equal cigarettes.
Take down all that you desire and reel in it.
Just reel in it.
posted by Sarah L. at 2:31 PM
1 Comments:
Good for you, friend. I can just hear your typing away.
I'm reeling it in today, Lilius. Let the line out past the horizon yesterday. Now it's time for what's coming.
My most recent and upcoming submissions include Gay and Lesbian Review Worldwide, American Letters & Commentary, Spinning Jenny, and Glimmer Train (yes, a short story!)
I wish you could have a cup of coffee with me and talk talk talk at the diner across the street I'm headed to. Soon enough.
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