July 27 – August 2, 2020: Poetry from Richard Lynch and Ryan Nesselrodt

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Richard Lynch

The invisible igloo has kept out the houseflies as there is no inside without winter. I promise…this Nanook in bear feats will collect chickory a young mind wouldst thou now protest. Gandia, La Playa, beach of mine I set foot in. It has ships and shit. Cockroaches. Bananas and inedible oranges on the ornamental trees in the street. Fuck the cars parking without masks. Without bourbon. Without glyphs. I get out of the car on a small hill without the brake on without the foresight of the children and the pansies on the meridian. Like will be like that when I remember waking. If tomorrow I wake.

The following work is Copyright © 2020, and owned by Richard Lynch and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

The Toilet Leaks Like This

There is a toilet leaking.
I don’t care how long
It has been leaking for.
It leeks. It stinks.
You look out the window and say
“Damn, the toilet is leaking.”

The toilet keeps leaking.
The floor starts to rot.
You look out the window.
“The toilet is leaking”
you say.
The cat keeps licking its fur.

I can identify the toilet
leaking. For 100 years and it will
Keep leaking if I do nothing

Tell someone it needs to be fixed
That is a solution
Of more water
Under the bilge.


My toilet is broken.
I know exactly what to do.
I asked people about European plumbing
I checked online.
I will do something about the problem.

The toilet is leaking.
I know it is leaking.
It smells and I can
Do

Nothing about
The toilet leaking
Without something
To make it stop

I don’t me let
Stop the toilet
Linking it does
Not for 100 years
ever in my ears I heard
This thing won’t stop
Smelling the cats rotting
The floor

Why do I hear stinking

Where do I lick the fur.

Ryan Nesselrodt

Ryan Nesselrodt is a graduate student currently pursuing a PhD in Physics. He is originally from East Berlin, Pennsylvania.

The following work is Copyright © 2020, and owned by Ryan Nesselrodt and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

The White Lie

White gum clicks and pops between my
White teeth while sunlight
White gets scattered fast
to blue (for some reason i once knew)
far above my
White head resting uneasy upon my
White shoulders mulling White thoughts
over and over my
White girlfriend opens our
White door returning red from a
White run, safely jogging past
White homes where white children,
their hands stained red,
learn they are White