April 15-21, 2013: Just Kibbe and Zack Nelson-Lopiccolo

Just Kibbe and Zack Nelson-Lopiccolo


Send us your poetry for POET OF THE WEEK
consideration. Click here for submission guidelines.


Just Kibbe
justkibbe@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

Just Kibbe is a 21st century poet, a literaphic artist, a photographer of words, searching for one in a thousand that speaks the inner conflict of his awareness into 3D. Just Kibbe designed and produced a Baby Obama Doll (limited edition of 500), which uses toy and packaging to make an interactive poetic statement about Americans’ relationships to political media. His two chapbooks are Good God: Forbidden Poems, short poems with interpretive illustrations by Christopher Paul Russell, and Public Urinal Poetry Tour, a series of poems hand-written onto public urinals and photographed.Any Color Is Fine As Long As You Can See Through It, a coffee table book of collage art, written and designed with Rubik’s Cube as the mechanism which organizes the waterfall of original and stolen images and text into six chapters, each exploring a different phase of the life cycle.Just Kibbe’s is actively working on two creative projects. The first is Elite Speaking Turquoise Monkey, a collection of text message poetry, including side-by-side with equivalent English translations. Additionally he is producing an American Sign Language Video Translation of this manuscript. The second creative project is Curing The Pirate Pig, a geographical narrative that uses space and place, instead of time and plot, as the primary organizer of artifacts and ephemera – including maps, telegrams, recipe cards, military records, bones, etc. – to create a fictional archeology. The 3D narrative was first exhibited at the Scenic Drive Gallery in Monrovia in 2012. Visit Just Kibbe on the web here.

The following work is Copyright © 2013, and owned by Just Kibbe and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Butterfly Love

for Jenni

I love you like pit bull without a muzzle
like a tornado without a windmill.
Your brains are dynamite.
When you sneeze, the world has more color.
Yes, I’m a few pickles short of a holiday clown casserole
but when the going gets weird, the pros make soup sandwiches and take a hike
out to where the busses don’t run and the hummingbirds fly backwards.

You’re smarter than a bag of laptops
sexier than a forest fire at sunrise.
Loving you is like taking an elevator to the top of a rainbow.
Loving you is like a picnic with leftover animal crackers.
I want to make coffee out of your sarcasm
And sweeten it with the wings of butterflies.


Zack Nelson-Lopiccolo
znelsonlopiccolo@hotmail.com

Bio (auto)

Zack Nelson Lopiccolo is a graduate of California State University, Long Beach where he stole a B.A in Creative Writing and Literature. He is one of two managing editors at Bank-Heavy Press, and of Insomniatic Umbrella Press, a publisher of rarities. His strangely erotic voice can be seen or is forthcoming in LUMMOX, Gutter Eloquence, The Mas Tequila Review, Tears in the Fence(UK), Short, Fast, and Deadly, Media Virus, Crack the Spine, Pipe Dream, Red Fez, Zygote in My Coffee and Carnival, among others. His first chapbook Dancing with Scissors was released in June 2012. He’s been a featured reader at Beside the City of Angels: A Long Beach Poetry Festival, the Grand Park Book Fest in Los Angeles as well as many other weekly and monthly readings across LA and Orange counties (California). He currently resides aboard a sailboat in Long Beach, CA pretending to be a pirate, but really works as a Drywall Hanger and Taper. He loves canned green beans. Visit Zack on the web here.

The following work is Copyright © 2013, and owned by Zack Nelson-Lopiccolo and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Upon A Spider

Pj screams, and runs out
of the bathroom, naked. I can’t
hold the laughter as I ask
“What” and she just says
“Spider. Big big Spider”

I crawl into the shower
with my shoes
on, see the three inch
creature and squish
him with the toe.

I laugh again, walk
out to her
rebuttal
“says the man who screams
like a women when one’s on his beard”



Backseat

We’re driving down Highway 10
on our way to Laughlin, boats hitched
to each truck loaded down with camping
supplies, in a four AM caravan
slipping across the purple Mojave.

Every passenger is asleep, except
for me staring at stars that jump
on black mountains. I see a pair of objects
shadowed and flying close to the peaks.

I’m positive they’re UFO’s investigating
this dark stretch of asphalt laying
in the desert like a dead rattlesnake.

They start to disappear in the atmosphere
and I swear there’s a hand waving
at me from the backseat.