MY POEMS IN DOWN IN THE DIRT

I’m super excited to have four of my earlier poems in Down in the Dirt, an excellent lit journal, also publishing previously published works.

Interestingly, I was first notified they’d accepted two, but then I sent a follow up letter with two additional poems saying although I know they don’t want the rhyme in their magazine, I’ll take my chances, knowing that the one that rhymes here and there is a good one, and assuring them that when I use it, though rarely, I do it for a good reason, never for the sake of the rhyme itself.

So, persistence pays off.

You can read my poems here, here, here and here.

THE HOUSE I LIVE IN

my desk is crammed with extinct languages
without living descendants in sight
my ceiling heavy with gruesome attacks by serial killers
survived against all odds
my garbage can is a handful of banalities
my plate full of wars fought in vain
my fridge fraught with tears torn on the barbed wire
carefully stored and deep frozen for future use

my lamp shows me life in the spotlight
though it hates being left alone with my thoughts of tomorrow
swallowed by the sun
my coffee cup gives me a sardonic smile every time I tell it
I want him to love me in person, not in the abstract
my doors scream false pride and irregular accomplishments
my baggage begs me to reconsider
my mouse my only ally, deleting geography

my floor is a liquid mixture of
visceral bleeding and spilled brains
my mirrors aching mourners at the funeral
(blessed are not those who mourn)
the insistent audience demanding
encore after encore
after…
(sorry to disappoint you. I didn’t stay to the end of the movie)

my state of being is
a series of running and passing plays
my state of mind elsewhere
my head, a concert with fireworks timed
to the music of untuned percussion instruments
an extended clattering of pans and cutlery in the kitchen
my happiness beyond compare –
the medieval conception of justice


 

via THE HOUSE I LIVE IN ~ BOJANA STOJCIC — MORALITY PARK