Bindweed Anthology 2018: Devil’s Guts comes to a close with a Boxing Day Feast of five poets. Look out for the Bindweed Anthology 2018: Devil’s Guts print anthology coming soon in 2019!
Happy New Year!
Tag: Bindweed Anthology 2018: Devil’s Guts
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Victoria Doerper – 1 poem
Wu Tong Triolet
I sip on lukewarm coffee.
The sky outside is flat grey.
The Wu Tong has no flowers for me.
I sip on lukewarm coffee,
Remembering purple blooms swelling the tree
When everything was different than today.
I sip on lukewarm coffee.
The sky outside is flat grey.
Victoria Doerper writes poetry, memoir, and nonfiction from her home in the Pacific Northwest. Her poems can be found in Clover, Cirque, These Fragile Lilacs, and The Plum Tree Tavern. Her prose appears in Orion magazine.
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Glenn Ingersoll – 1 poem
Enveloped by hurricanes’ thinking elephant
The bridge empties.
He pulls back his shadow, and sees a way to slip through.
The coffee is shot through with gold and with shouts.
I am finally awake.
Some achievements require more negotiations with indifferent agencies.
Precisely at 1:14.
Drip drip drip. For the sake of a shared enterprise!
Read one inch of book.
No more elephants. The mirrors go gray.
In the glass a pained sigh’s powdery residue.
The river makes its quota of fences.
My bicycle leans rusting, locked, yours spins in the circus under acrobats.
Glenn Ingersoll works for the Berkeley Public Library in California where he hosts Clearly Meant, a reading & interview series. He has two chapbooks, City Walks (broken boulder) and Fact (Avantacular). He keeps two blogs, LoveSettlement and Dare I Read. Recent work has appeared in concis, Mannequin Haus, and The Opiate.
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Glenn Hubbard – 1 poem
Collecting Seaweed from Strangford Lough
It was on our doorstep and free.
Would raise fertility and yield.
Collecting it could have
been a blip on the chart,
enriched an otherwise arid
Ulster Sunday morning.
I imagine laughter as we slipped
and slithered towards the prize;
surprise and wonder at the sight
of so much exuberant life; a hand-
on-hip breather to take in the grandeur
of the skies and give the day its due.
But imagine is all. For I was doubtless
all business. Wanting it done, in the bag.
Concerned about the car. The morning
like some wash-day shirt, I ironed out the fun
after rinsing out the colours, not noticing
as they drained away into the ebbing tide.
Once the rain had washed off the salt,
I dug it in at an inch-perfect depth
while you sat indoors alone. Again.
Months later I took a spade to a bed.
There was the gain, what remained
of that morning with you: a thin, dark line.
Glenn Hubbard has been writing poetry since 2012 and has had a number of poems published in magazines and ezines, includingBindweed! Recently he has been spending a lot of time listening to recordings of Basil Bunting.
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John Grey – 1 poem
THE HISTORY OF US NEVER HAVING MET
Does it involve anyone else I wonder
or just shadows
and pizza eaten cold
on a Monday morning.
And where do I live?
Do I even bother with a house
in the suburbs
or does a small city apartment do?
Is there a bed in my story
equally as comfortable as this one?
And is it comforting besides?
How many more books do I read?
How many less plays do I see?
And what of the movies?
Is every film a different partner
in the seat beside me?
Or is it empty?
And is it that emptiness
that accompanies me home?
So many demons to assuage.
So many heartbeats to
toss like confetti
into the happiness of others.
So much trudging through city parks
for no reason
or working a second job
because the first’s not dull enough.
So how cold do I get in winter?
How much sorrow for myself
can I squeeze into one lifetime?
The history is out there.
I’m just glad I’m writing it,
not living it.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in Examined Life Journal, Evening Street Review and Columbia Review with work upcoming in Harpur Palate, Poetry East and Visions International.
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