February 8-14, 2010: Robert Demaree and Ivan Jenson

Robert Demaree
rdemareejr@triad.rr.com

 

Bio (auto)

Robert Demaree is the author of four collections of poems, including Fathers and Teachers (2007) and Mileposts (October 2009), both published by Beech River Books The winner of the 2007 Conway, N.H , Library Poetry Award, he is a retired school administrator with ties to North Carolina, Pennsylvania and New Hampshire, where he lives four months of the year He has had over 400 poems published or accepted by 100 periodicals, including Cold Mountain Review, Red Wheelbarrow, Homestead Review and Oracle He lives in Burlington, N.C and Wolfeboro, N.H For further information see http://www.demareepoetry.blogspot.com

The following work is Copyright © 2010, and owned by Robert Demaree and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


Viewing Foliage on a Cloudy Day:
Kinsman Notch, N.H , October 2002

At the park turn-out we can see the trees
Through a windy mist
Across a mountain tarn:
Maples, alders, sumac,
Red, yellow, orange,
Luminous, as though an inner light
Adjusted to the grayness of the October day The people in the blue car
Are heard to express regret:
The weather, that they had come this day They roll up the window and drive off;
They did not get out.


Mile Markers

It is 1968, and we, like others before and since,
Are leaving the subdivisions of Fairfax County Neighbors in split foyers
Jostle anxiously, cordially,
For position What I remember of the artifacts abandoned at the curb
Is our daughter’s blue-wheeled Fisher-Price giraffe,
Offering a goofy red and yellow grin
To a rider who would not be coming back
Almost forty years have past I look down our new street
Which, unless you knew who lived here,
You might take for the subdivisions of Fairfax County We have been here long enough to sense
Whom we are drawn to most,
Whose aches are real and whose are not We have chosen to like everyone at Golden Pines We do not want to know if someone drinks too much
Or baits his wife,
Or lost the job he once had in Fairfax County We do not want to know
Whose politics or faith have gone askew Upon this curb we have set out
For the Vietnam Veterans
The high chair we bought
For our first grandchild

 

_______________________________

Ivan Jenson
colorism@comcast.net

 

Bio (auto)

Ivan Jenson has enjoyed unprecedented success publishing his poetry in the the US and the UK and he has received recognition for his bold Pop Art His Absolut Jenson painting was featured in Art News, Art in America, and he has sold several works at Christie’s, New York Ivan Jenson is highly sought after for his popular and dynamic live readings on the stage and radio His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Word Riot, Zygote in my Coffee, Camroc Press Review, Word Catalyst Magazine,  Poetry Super Highway, Alternative Reel Poets Corner, Underground voices magazine, Blazevox, and many others He now writes novels and poetry in Grand Rapids, Michigan http://www.ivanjensonartist.com/

The following work is Copyright © 2010, and owned by Ivan Jenson and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

 

The outbox affair

the first email
was a thank-you
for a great evening
the second one
was to make sure
that they knew
you just wanted
friendship
and maybe
something more
the third email
was just
to say
you are
not desperate
just interested
and the fourth
email was
awkward
and stilted
and it was
sent at four AM
the fifth email
was borderline
stalking
and the sixth
email was ignored
the seventh deleted
and the eighth reported
the ninth email
which was an apology for
all the previous
emails
was blocked
and bounced right
back
the tenth
email contained
a picture of
you
and your lonely
deranged smile
and it was
sent to
someone new


A clean reflection

out there
past midnight
in the after hours
by the dance floor
you actually
found something
that looked
tasted
and sounded
like love
at least until
4:00 AM
at your place
when the
ABSOLUT
and the
cigarettes ran out
and she slipped
on her thigh highs
and her leather coat
and left
you with
the words
call me
written in lipstick on
your mirror
it was
a removable
romance
thanks
to windex