15 July 2009

Featured Poet: Chip Corwin


At last,
they finished the tightrope
to the moon.

We walked on out our
window, and after some time
our shadows upon the earth were as
long and distant as a comet’s tail.

We reached the moon and
strolled down her blue
unpaved boulevards,

and shopped in her
round empty windows,
and slept on her cool stone fields.

From a dewless savanna
we watched the world rise
half dark, turning like a sonnet
between sudden moonlight
and white dawn,

and we wondered what
new was burning.


The sun exploded and
engulfed the Earth.
“Isn’t this fun?” you said,
as we rode the last beam
of light out past Mars,
and through the rings of
Saturn, through galaxies
as black and clear as Egyptian glass.

We went all the way around
the edge of the universe,
until we saw the familiar
sight of our own, old
moon, looking dimpled and crestfallen.
“Hold on now,” I said,
as we sped past, out into nothing


I have never seen
this landscape
except, of course,
in my mind:

All it is is
a sea of pines,
split sidelong
by a chilly
trout stream
held firmly
by blue sky.

It is beautiful,
and I would like to
paint it,
so I wouldn’t have
to work so hard
keeping it alive. The problem is,
I am no good at painting,
and, anyway,

if I were to
paint it, I could never
take it with me to such
wild places, or

look at it in
the dark.

To Autumn

I’m not sure
how alone
I feel

things always
go back
to leaves
this time of year

how they turn
pale before
red or yellow

how they die
first, then

and then there’s the people

piling them
up in the yard

burying children

the old
hours to
see every last one

whole families
smiling in front of
the carnage

I will just look
at them

there goes another

if it lands in my driveway
I’ll park on it

Chip Corwin teaches English at Heartland Community College in Normal, Illinois.

© Copyright 2009 Chip Corwin

08 July 2009

Featured Poet: Andrew Lundwall

a mess dancing on invisible hooks. blowing & tearing a place. before talk. sublime nothings. destination incredible fast. frame minutes. stoned. mystery nails climb amazed with eat. horse-loads. of spear-point butterflies egrizazzigate. a fountain of fool. will know like the surface of a fall. record stuff. 50,000 whats rotgut. stir with recognize. stir with thirst worm wakings. 50,000 year old rotgut. keeps a vine-eyed ground below a-guessing. where it is. like a-guessing is/was wooden & precious. afflicted zeros caressed serpents. caressed serpents devour. caressed serpents devour incredible kittens.

medicinal ache. the body scans zoom in. remember. was artificial like shape spree. benzodiazepine surprise. senses tinted with chakra fever. a clinical lisped pseudonym habitats. insomnia scenes. glare slurping fugitive amusements. ceremonies of drug everything in a desensitized incline. bees crawl like halos is what is. images have hidden radio rooms. shock the fuschias out of. complex like unbuttoned torchlight. like untangling ninteteenth-century occult fog. the flow of a brick horse chronic with hunch. inkstains engaged in smouldering cursive. multi-limbed withdrawal. the letters home. the feeling of. & the letters home. dear _______. a blue voluptuousness wrecked precious eyeballs. blundered newer new. traumatic in tens. boxes of glanced blind back at the hemispheres. e.g. invisible dining in inconclusive minds are like spiral to destiny. a careless locality.

can of what follows. include numb weather of 1,929 years. other impotent. invalid fuchsia nerves. thoroughly. the trance of what you like. special dice. stations drop splendidly like a treatment. a trick tall dream sensation. must have like problems. a waterway of eyes to guard. all that white-haired ceremonies of grotesque secrets the real deepens. bundle of concerning the grunt of founding muzzles is moon. the charm of assumption's rhythm & its pilgrimage to no place. means the sedative kissed history. anywhere hearts dipped in fragments of slimy wallpaper. hypnotic donkeys writhe awake hastily in brooding forecast flexing mars. a glow heavy lane doses that time there were many anchored in incredible menstruations. a heaving crown. incongruities including hissing. but then. it is unusual arithmetic. notes of uninterrupted foreskin grows back. teeth painted in elevators of rotten skills. croquet as afflictions. one laughing & the other definite. degrees of static into a house had its fireside. augment the limestone bald & two images volley damn fluently. urging such see becoming swarming.

Andrew Lundwall is the editor of Scantily Clad Press (http://scantilycladpress.blogspot.com) Recent poems have appeared in La Petite Zine, RealPoetik, Robot Melon, Tight, & Action, Yes. He has released three chapbooks, klang, honorable mention, & funtime, a collaboration with Adam Fieled.

© Copyright 2009 Andrew Lundwall