Blog

PHILLY POETRY LOVE-IN // DAY 7: Angel Hogan, “Blind Foal”

thewaterfallsmallpixTeacher, rabble-rouser, and crowd-pleaser Harry Baker (APIARY 2) nominates Angel Hogan (APIARY 1) with a work first published in APIARY. Both Angel and Harry were among the first poets APIARY published and featured five years ago.

Harry says: I’ve always liked this one by Angelita Hogan because I beg for the release of frustrated lovers too….”

 

Blind Foal

Sweet Jesus, grant me the power to delve deeper, deeper still:
cracking it all up,unsheathing, splitting everything
then leaving it out in the sun, exposed.

Give me some bitterness and irony
like the blind foal born when I was ten,
pushed out slick and steaming,
tearing his mother with urgent hooves–
then mercy-shot a day later.
(The mare stood, her tender parts swollen and stitched, missing the colt’s nubby mouth nudging her belly. All that work for what?)

Don’t listen, if at some future date,
I beg for release, pray for numbness.
I may say different,but this is what I really want. Really–

to scream at the difficult moments,
say the awkward things.
Let my flustered lovers leave me,
let heartache leave me brave.

To remember and shudder; let some pain drive me into corners
collecting the God almighty ashes and dust, making my own.

Want to shout out a worthy work? To celebrate Poetry Month, we’re asking all our voracious readers to tell us YOUR favorite poems by local poets. To nominate a poem, send us the title, link or text, and author name, as well as a sentence about why and how you love it, to info@apiarymagazine.com (We’ll publish links to/excerpts of the work so credit goes to the original publications where they appeared, when possible, and get writers’ permission).

PHILLY POETRY LOVE-IN // DAY 6: Shevaun Brannigan, “Local Church Falls in Love with Area Library”

To brighten up your cold, rainy Wednesday, here’s a love story by Shevaun Brannigan, who has been published in several journals such as Best New Poet 2012, Lumina, and Court Green.  Today’s poem is nominated by Alice Isak, a feminist poet and memoirist who writes about sex and bodies and minds and violence.

Alice says: “I appreciate how this love poem expresses physical and mental intimacy without succumbing to cliche or saccharine.”

Local Church Falls in Love with Area Library

02_Green_Local_Church-02

I think my body a church

with scaffolded steeple, falling
shingles and missing eaves.

So many birds move into my brain
and I cannot contain them.
I should be condemned.

I meet you and I am not
a dilapidation, anymore.
To you, the holes in my roof

are just bits of sky. I become
the nails’ heads so flush
and proud against wood,

the stained glass’ stark leadlines,
I am my joints,
I am the skeleton frame.

(continue the poem here)

This month, we’re asking all you voracious readers to tell us YOUR favorite poems by local poets. To nominate a poem, send us the title, link or text, and author name, as well as a sentence about why and how you love it, to info@apiarymagazine.com. We’ll publish links to/excerpts of the work so credit goes to the original publications where they appeared, when possible, and get writers’ permission.

PHILLY POETRY LOVE-IN // DAY 5: SARAH BLAKE, ‘FROM IN A WOOD’

06wolfgang-hutter_900Poet Catie Rosemurgy is a wonder in her own right and we’re happy to have her in Philadelphia. She’s chosen to nominate a work by local author Sarah Blake, currently blowing up the interwebs for her new book about Kanye West, Mr. West. 

Catie says: “These excerpts from Sarah Blake’s heartbreaking, strange, lovely, and deeply companionable long poem In a Wood, with Clearings, It’s Spring.  Reading these poems is like discovering the diary that the woods kept for several seasons.”

 

From In a Wood, with Clearings, It’s Spring

Your body is so wet that finding dry spots under trees feels like you’ve wandered out of your natural habitat and might die.

You have a new body that’s perfect for the rain.

You’re an alien. You develop a new walk where you can only shuffle to the side. You start saying the beeps of your new language.

You think, I’m home, for the first time in a long time. You translate, I’m home, into beeps and scream it out into the rain.

You have 37 different words for rain. This rain can be described in one word but it translates loosely to:

good smelling hard falling rain that makes you feel like shiny beetles are hiding everywhere and you are keeping two of the shiniest ones in your heart

 …

Read the rest at http://lareviewofbooks.org/essay/excerpts-wood-clearings-spring-sarah-blake

(This month, we’re asking all you voracious readers to tell us YOUR favorite poems by local poets. To nominate a poem, send us the title, link or text, and author name, as well as a sentence about why and how you love it, to info@apiarymagazine.com. We’ll publish links to/excerpts of the work so credit goes to the original publications where they appeared, when possible, and get writers’ permission.)

Philly Poetry Love-In // DAY 4: Trapeta Mayson, “Letter to my Sister”

article_kehinde_wiley_the_two_sisters_2000x2500_0Happy Monday! Today’s poem is nominated by Yolanda Wisher, Germantown poet and musician. She nominates accomplished poet and teaching artist Trapeta Mayson. (Yolanda sent in her nomination via Twitter: you can too!)

Yolanda says: “I love this poem like I love my sisters. Love that she “poems” her pain and asks what you gonna do with yours. To create = to heal.”

 

 

Letter to my Sister

I have turned our childhood into a few dozen verses;
there are places for dramatic pause,
and where memory failed,
I embellished a bit.

You’ve grown impatient with me
and my so-called poetic license;
I don’t remember that
has become your weary mantra.

D,
I am learning to excavate the good times too.
Can’t you see where I’ve colored some words?
Inserted those tender moments?
A famous writer once said that eventually
I will tire of myself and will be compelled
to tell the I-less stories….I anxiously await that moment.
But for now, I want to tell them

about our war with mama’s illness
and how at school we were maimed for being foreign.

Remember D?
When they chased us up Tioga Street
and accused us of having voodoo and
scanned our dark bodies for tribal scars
and discovered the cayenne pepper we had hidden;
to throw in their faces,
to sting them,
to make them fear us,
to be left alone,
to be African.

D,
I have managed to poem all my pain;
tell me,
what do you do with yours?

(Want to shout out a worthy work? To celebrate Poetry Month, we’re asking all our voracious readers to tell us YOUR favorite poems by local poets. To nominate a poem, send us the title, link or text, and author name, as well as a sentence about why and how you love it, to info@apiarymagazine.com (We’ll publish links to/excerpts of the work so credit goes to the original publications where they appeared, when possible, and get writers’ permission).)

PHILLY POETRY LOVE-IN // DAY 3: NICOLE STEINBERG

13biology_kollar_370Today’s shout-out comes courtesy of poet and poetry lover Rae Pagliarulo, nominating a piece by Nicole Steinberg.

Rae says: “We try to write about the hissing & howls as we swing by – and personally, I could never get it right. When my Resting Bitch Face is frozen and I can’t think of a thing to say, Nicole Steinberg has a poem to soften me. At 15, we were meeting up in AOL chat rooms, pretending to be other people, then not so much. We wrote loose leaf letters back and forth, Philly to New York, in high school, then college. Now, she’s in my city, and I can walk the streets with her words in my mouth.”

 

Why I Have to Be so Rude

Because swagger, because all men
kneel in the church of the cowboy, wannabe
woodsmen, even the allergic. My sob story
goes something like this: my mother, my father,
my mother, my mother, my mother,
my mother, my father. My father. I can’t write
you a poem about barns or cornfields. Because
the dirge I sing in the shower is about kickball,
exile. Oatmeal gargoyle in size 14 khaki
shorts versus Big Red and the school bus
monsters, girl guts strung like party streamers
from balloon-pink talons. Were the sneering
men on the downtown A ever infants, wailing
and waiting to be burped? …

Read the rest at: http://www.glittermobmag.com/nicole-steinberg.html

Want to shout out a worthy work? To celebrate Poetry Month, we’re asking all our voracious readers to tell us YOUR favorite poems by local poets. To nominate a poem, send us the title, link or text, and author name, as well as a sentence about why and how you love it, to info@apiarymagazine.com (We’ll publish links to/excerpts of the work so credit goes to the original publications where they appeared, when possible, and get writers’ permission).

PHILLY POETRY LOVE-IN // DAY 2: JASMINE LASHAE COMBS AND WARREN LONGMIRE

Today’s poetry shout-out comes from Jacob Winterstein, teaching artist and co-founder of the Pigeon Presents Philly Poetry Slam.  This heartbreaking choral piece, which makes use of sound and texture to bring the events of a summer night to your doorstep, was created by members of the Philly slam team sent to national competition last summer.

Jacob says: “I love the stark writing in this. The soundscape gives it a cinematic feel. Warren C. Longmire [far left] composed it and Jasmine LaShae [far right] wrote it.”

Want to shout out a worthy work? To celebrate Poetry Month, we’re asking all our voracious readers to tell us YOUR favorite poems by local poets. To nominate a poem, send us the title, link or text, and author name, as well as a sentence about why and how you love it, to info@apiarymagazine.com (We’ll publish links to/excerpts of the work so credit goes to the original publications where they appeared, when possible, and get writers’ permission).

PHILLY POETRY LOVE-IN // DAY 1: JACLYN SADICARIO

02-Vangel-Naumovski--Prohibited-Thoughts--1973_900Poetry Month in Philadelphia is a wild ride. From Philly Poetry Day to the countless readings bursting into bloom around the city, the city’s poets are spinning metaphors and spellbinding rooms every night of the week. This month, we’re celebrating the readers of poetry who keep it all going, the community of swapping and sharing and recommending, of late-night read-alouds in the bar or over the phone, of handing over your favorite dog-eared chapbook and knowing you’ll probably never see it again but that’s ok because it deserves to be soaked in by the next soul.

We’re asking all you voracious readers to tell us YOUR favorite poems by local poets. To nominate a poem, send us the title, link or text, and author name, as well as a sentence about why and how you love it, to info@apiarymagazine.com (We’ll publish links to/excerpts of the work so credit goes to the original publications where they appeared, when possible, and get writers’ permission.)

To kick us off, there couldn’t be anyone better than Alina Pleskova, APIARY poetry editor emeritus, sharing a goosebump-inducing poem (we tested it and verify!) by Jaclyn Sadicario. (Alina actually loves recommending poetry so much she’s starting a podcast, named after her former APIARY column — Poetry Jawns.) Read the poem after the jump.

(more…)