Posts tagged stephaniepoetry
wait for me at the end of the world. no more
television, no more telephone. no more typing.
no more gasoline. just dust. just my hair blowing.
wait for me with good night tugs and whiskey
glances. wait for me with a kiss. wait for me
with two hands to hold. wait for me with a
quartz for luck. a dove. when the highway
is backed up with the cars. the mermaids stopped
singing. the cowboys left the pasture without horses.
wait for me, with a single flower. the last tulip. wait
for me so i don’t have to go alone. wait for me at
the end of the world.
I’m proud to announce that two of my poems (“Whiskey Tongues” & “The Lost Winter King”) are featured in the anthology Spectral Lines published by the Romanian journal, Nazar Look.
I just wanted to share my poem, “The Missing and the Pensive” with you all. It’s published in the Aussie mag, Page Seventeen! Go check out the literary magazine, it’s a lovely publication.
the house was new
untouched by ghosts
or the dead who like
the weeds were growing,
we took a spade
hooking through, like
into the hearth of dirt
until he found red again
as we laughed
despite all the water.
Oh, wow. This might sound a little sappy, but I’m really honored to find one of my poems online in a blog. Thanks for reading, you guys. Also, this poem has been published in the Uphook Press anthology, hell strung and crooked. Feel free to check them out, the press is definitely discovering some inspiring poetry.
Incase y’all don’t have nearly enough poetry in your lives - I’m doing a reading on 10/27 in Williamsburg. Come on down, share a couple of stanzas and smiles. Besides, the Counting Room Bar is a total jam.
FACEBOOK EVENT: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=223262587736728
- TUESDAY SEPTEMBER 21ST 6pm
- 29 Cornelia Street (between Bleecker and W4th St), New York City
- $7 entry includes one house drink
I am so pleased and proud to announce that I am a part of Uphook Press’s latest anthology, “hell strung and crooked.” My poem, “When We Lived Next Door To Mermaids,” closes out the collection.
Please join me for the reading and a drink on 9/21! Poetry is good for you, you know.
the telephone is ringing:
there are oranges
on the floor
left behind on a receipt
smudged and curled
i think about
the coffee cup
left alone, steaming until
i answer the phone
expecting a voice
than my own
it comes in pitches:
a distant whisper
slighted to change
a man’s voice
in tender tones
cracking eggs in
and headlines with
singing girls in tar pits
and setting the mix
the i, not i
we run next door
to borrow sugar.