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week of November 12 - 18, 2007
Suzanne Austin and Jerry Whalley
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BECOME A POET OF THE WEEK
click. here.for. submission .guidelines
A Man With No Teeth Serves Us Breakfast | I'd Like to Bake Your Goods | Stolen Mummies | Brendan Constantine is My Kind of Town
Up Liberty's Skirt | Feeding Holy Cats | Mowing Fargo | I'm a Jew, Are You? | Lizard King of the Laundromat | I Am My Own Orange County
Paris: It's The Cheese |
Poetry Super Highway | Judaic Links | Rick's Bookmarks | Cobalt Poets
E-mail Rick | Other Cool Rick Stuff / Upcoming Readings | Who The Hell Is Rick
Suzanne Austin
zan0@juno.com
Bio (auto)
My name is Suzanne Austin. I'm 28 years old and I live in Terre Haute, Indiana.
The following work is Copyright © 2007, and owned by Suzanne Austin and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
UntitledThis is the reading you shouldn't be doing
The ocean's drowning
My hand is .1 percent water
(this isn‚t true)
Shrouded salamanders cannot be trusted
Unlucky home owners
with 1200 square feet of
rented philosophies
double fisted agonies
and hello kitty dolls
have invitation only yard sales
Open robes
are not as revealing
as a lie
(slow exposures of galaxies show us heaven, etc.)
Burnt out
mosquitoes
feast on your tax dollars
What?
I have a tendency to
mumble
and can only
hope you're reading this
on a curve
UntitledThe world is neither vertical nor horizontal
it is a fist
Colliding with god's great dream
the sky is a parachute
we keep eating through
UntitledThere are elephants on the tip of my tongue
and constellations at my fingertips
you are a beautiful crucifix
you are the sky I watch darken
much ado about a dying breed
She stopped to think of me at the top of the stairs
I watch the rooftops
from my window
run over with rain
Jerry Whalley
yorkie4me@cox.net
Bio (auto)
Jerry Whalley lives in North Vancouver, Canada
The following work is Copyright © 2007, and owned by Jerry Whalley and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
the other shoe
She spoke in silences;
her heart empty
with lost time.Walls unpainted their colours.
Windows became blind.
Doors withheld keys.
A blanketless bed,
and pageless books!A hole in her shoe;
the other already dropped.
A Man With No Teeth Serves Us Breakfast | I'd Like to Bake Your Goods | Stolen Mummies | Brendan Constantine is My Kind of Town
Up Liberty's Skirt | Feeding Holy Cats | Mowing Fargo | I'm a Jew, Are You? | Lizard King of the Laundromat | I Am My Own Orange County
Paris: It's The Cheese | Poetry Super Highway | Judaic Links | Rick's Bookmarks | Cobalt Poets
E-mail Rick | Other Cool Rick Stuff / Upcoming Readings | Who The Hell Is Rick