December 17-23, 2012: Jamie Elliott Keith and Eamonn Lorigan

Jamie Elliott Keith and Eamonn Lorigan


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Jamie Elliott Keith
kjkjz@comcast.net

Bio (auto)

Jamie Elliott Keith lives in Knoxville, Tennessee, and is continually astounded by the power of words. Her works have been published in such publications as Every Day Poets, drown in my own fears, and Thick With Conviction.

The following work is Copyright © 2012, and owned by Jamie Elliott Keith and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Paint the House Blue

The years have dulled the tint, but, oh, when new—
a splash of tropics stained the country lane.
Aghast, the neighbors spoke against the hue.
Did he not know the proper shade to paint
a house? Not beachy like the public pool,
but something mute and showing more restraint.
His children snidely laughed in their replies,
but not his wife, the girl with azure eyes.


Anniversary

A door
in our old house
swings slowly shut
with a chink of the latch
and each of us
on the other side.


Eamonn Lorigan
eamonnlorigan@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

Eamonn Lorigan is an annuated Irishman with a spotty publication history trying to write one decent poem every couple of days for the rest of his miserable God-bedeviled life in the obviously contradictory hope that he will thereby find salvation. Age has not brought him maturity and he tends to be the oldest guy at his local poetry slams. Eamonn’s work has appeared in such venues as Carve Magazine, Muse Apprentice Guild, Literary Potpourri, Literary Burlesque, Slowtrains, a Literary Journal, Phantom Kangaroo, The Beatnik, Poetry Super Highway (including the 2012 Holocaust Memorial Issue) and Loch Raven Literary Review. He lives in New Hampshire with his wife and two sons. Some of his poetry can be read at his website, Eamonnlorigan.blogspot.com.

The following work is Copyright © 2012, and owned by Eamonn Lorigan and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Florida Kaddish

Florida
sunshine
fierce
as god
almighty People
were not meant
to live
in this drained
swamp state
but we live
on air conditioning
& hope
unreasoned here
streets clogged
with old slow driving
sluggish blood moving
through narrowed
veins My doctor says
my cholesterol is
high enough I should consider
religion
Genetic she says probably
one of my parents
had big cholesterol
too: father maybe,
Died eighty six
walking back from nursing
home breakfast
collapsing on gleaming
linoleum Derry New Hampshire
not twenty miles
from my home wife sons
I hadn’t
known seen
him twenty years
maybe more
cremated him
(skinny undertaker
born again adam’s
apple bobbing
like original sin
offered to pray
with me
over cardboard box
Later met his lover
slack haired woman lost
in mourning
not much older
than me Glad
someone loved old
bastard someone
sorry to see him
go Here Florida though
years later
other nursing
home where senile
wait for morphine angel
Mother once I emerged
from you now you are
erased & I say
perhaps Kaddish
just like Allen
Ginsburg only
you aren’t dead
yet, are you, Ma
&your brain isn’t crazy
only damaged and emptied
& home I brought
the old man’s dust
from Affordable Cremation Services
throat bobbing Christian
body burner
to wait in cedar closet
basement all long winter
until ground thawed
enough to plant him
& now my mother
& all the garden of emptied
old get watered
twice a day
until they are plucked
& delivered &
Christ everything
is loss I said
Honey I’d like you
to meet my
dad as I carried him
boxed & roasted
into kitchen
& Kaddish
is for everyone
me & my cholesterol
even in Florida
this afternoon
beside my brain starved
mother & old man dead
at last & yes my soul
will magnify the lord
forever in his light
long & hopeless
burns eternal
endless eye of god
Sunshine. Burnt Father
Emptied Mother
We all die
Eventually
blessed
in Florida.