March 3-9, 2014: E.M. Schorb and Michael Estabrook

E.M. Schorb and Michael Estabrook

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E.M. Schorb
Paschorb@aol.com

Bio (auto)

I live in Mooresville, NC, but in the past have lived all over the States. My prose poems have appeared in The Carolina Quarterly, Quick Fiction, The Mississippi Review, Illuninations, The Chariton Review, Mudfish, The Asheville Poetry Review, Slant, The Potomac Review, Gulf Coast, The New Laurel Review, The North American Review, and Gargoyle, among others.
Aldrich Press recently published a collection of my prose poems called Manhattan Spleen. Before that, Argonne House Press published a chapbook of my prose poems, A Fable. In reviewing Manhattan Spleen, X.J. Kennedy wrote: “Manhattan Spleen is mighty cool, I think, and if anyone writes better prose poems these days I don’t know who they are.”

The following work is Copyright © 2014, and owned by E.M. Schorb and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Safety

Auto seatbelts started it, the quest for safety. Now on a golden sunny day on a walk in town, up and down the sidewalks we go, strapped to pulley belts to help us get from store to store. Now we have belts on our bicycle seats and, when we crash, we crash with the bike tangled to us. We have belts on our toilets, our commodes, our W.C. seats, so that we can’t get off in time to beat the overflow. We are strapped to our desks, we who work at desks, and strapped to our beds at night, unable to make love. Our children walk on ever-shorter leashes. Our dogs are tied to trees. Only our cats have escaped this safety and continue to live dangerously. Airbags are compressed into our steering wheels. But I don’t understand how they get a politician into a steering wheel, or how he or she stays alive in there, not that I care.


Michael Estabrook
mestabrook@comcast.net

Bio (auto)

Michael Estabrook is a recently retired baby boomer poet freed finally after working 40 years for “The Man” and sometimes “The Woman.” No more useless meetings under florescent lights in stuffy windowless rooms. Now he’s able to devote serious time to making better poems when he’s not, of course, trying to satisfy his wife’s legendary Honey-Do List.

The following work is Copyright © 2014, and owned by Michael Estabrook and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Provocation

After he heard I’d placed
a couple poems in a nice little poetry mag
he asked, “any money in it?”
mainly to provoke me I’m sure.

So I shrugged like usual
“no, no there isn’t
any money in poetry”

and he just sat there grinning at me
like I was
the biggest loser on the planet