City Poetry

The City Poetry Zine
UNTITLED
I like the way my car feels at 120 mph. I feel like Jesus fucking bleeding for a minute straight. Your screams are easier heard by someone closer. I can not save you. Death is such an ugly thing. I will spare you the details. When the fog rolls in and the gaze comes I will tell you about your journey. This is the sound of your life. If only you knew what I wanted or I knew what to say. If only your eyes had not turned away. HVN is a homesick sparrow living in my soul, an angel that speaks to me with wings that crush. You don’t deserve this shit from me. I will not tell that I have returned. I will not tell you that I can not love you.
The ghost of a dead man will never allow this. I will not be part of your collection regardless of the country or century that we fuck. I like a woman who knows how to take her pleasure, but before I fail in love once more I would just like you to know, that all of this was anticipated.
I am alone in a room. A bird has begun to sing on a hill in Medjagore. I can’t remember if in the dream we made love. I have been watching angels fall for too long. It will take exactly three seconds for this to happen or not to happen, but all of this is nothing compared to your hair.
I hardly know myself anymore. I am sorry I left those lips to empty, but my confusion was shared. It is true that I own the world, but I would trade all of this just to see your naked body.
Once I quit eating for a very long time. The thing that I missed the most was salt. The think that I miss the most now is you.
I could talk to you about eagles or dolphins but that would be bullshit. I am a poor man. I have never seen an eagle fly or a dolphin in the ocean. I will talk to you about something I know that you have seen like crows or sparrows fucking. You’re much too independent to ever need me; perhaps I can convince you that I need you. These are some things that interest me. The apocalypse, bombed-out buildings, cold war trash in a river or lake, abandonment, anything abandoned, railroad tracks last used in the early or mid twentieth century. If I were a devil or a god these would still be some of my favorite things, and I would still wish to kneel beside you. It is a new moon and the sewers of this city are thick with blood; my love for you is in this blood.
Russ Vidrick,
Issue III, UNTITLED Issue
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The content of The City Poetry Zine is characterized by a kind of patchouli cheer/despair or sci-fi gestalt or fairy tale radiance.
I accept submissions, particularly from Northeast Ohio poets or poets from other areas who live the life. I prefer to receive 8 to 10 poems or photos/art pieces from which I can make my selection. I'm currently collecting material with the goal of putting an issue out by winter 2009.
P R I N T I S S U E S
http://www.thecitypoetry.com - full issue online
IN THIS ISSUE: Kimberley Diamond Bones, Dianne Borsenik, E B Bortz, Hilary Brandt, Bree, C M Brooks, Michael H Brownstein, Courtney Campbell, Jeff Chiplis, Eli P Cimota, Jesus Crisis, Djuana, Jim Deuchers, KE, Michele Gibbs, Geoffrey Landis, Jim Lang, Max Uhler, Ronnie McGrath, Rob Plath, Jackie Sheeler, Smith & Lady, C@ptain Wallnut and Jason Williams. Cleveland Poetry Scenes is reviewed in this issue.
black & white: $7.99 at >http://www.lulu.com/content/4264265
color version: $17.50 at > http://www.lulu.com/content/4264749
*CONTRIBUTORS: Contact me for your black & white contributor's issue at cost ($8.74) via Paypal. ($8.74 includes shipping in the US - $13.94 at cost for color issue; contact me at kathyvirgw at symbol yahoo dot com.)
T H E C I T Y P R E S S
ZEN OVER ZERO
Zen Over Zero: Selected poems 1964-2008 by Steven B. Smith. 68 poems and 21 collages over 44 years. $12.00. > buy now
“Let's face it Smith, if the song 'My Way' were written about your life, it would be lyrics by William S. Burroughs & music by Laurie Anderson, as performed by The Velvet Underground. The 45-RPM vinyl would have been a blue corrosion color rather than black, with Voodoo Lounge as the cover and 'Voodoo Child' as side B. And THAT my friend would be one highly collectible single.” - Steve Reynolds
DOING TIME
Moon meat and Moses
Sucker song along
New lie highway
Old road alone
Need new lies
Old lie don't do
New supposes
For falling through
New excuses
And pretty parts
To hide abusive
Hollow hearts
Toys for boys
Swirls for girls
Swine to enjoy
Hurled pearls
For Babylon baby
Ain't another time
There ain't no maybe
It's this life's the crime
And I'm doing time
Steven B. Smith
Please feel free to post your artwork or poetry in the comments area below.