May 28-June 3, 2007: Zachary C. Bush and Harold Lorin

week of May 28-June 3, 2007

Zachary C Bush and Harold Lorin



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Zachary C Bush
readezra@yahoo.com

Bio (auto)

Zachary C Bush, 23, is a writer of poetry, fiction, and essays He is living in Statesboro, Georgia until December His work has appeared or is forthcoming in over a dozen literary journals including, VOX, WORD RIOT, Underground Voices, Locust, R-KV-R-Y, Chronogram, Noneuclidean Cafe, and The Externalist His first chapbook of poetry, Outside the Halfway House, is to be published June of 2007 by Scintillating Publications of Burlington, VT.

The following work is Copyright © 2007, and owned by Zachary C Bush and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

While the Wind Tore Tiles off Your Roof

You twirled about the living room inside a giant hula-hoop
Beneath the lights that flickered on-and-off in hysterical fits I drank

And studied the state map through thin grey
Lines waving across the television screen The map bled until the entire state was stained red
I listened to your boyfriend, the married one,
Take hits from a cut-glass pipe and slur lines from Mein Kampf
Over the static-crackle of TV warning alarms
“Should we be worried?” I asked Your father sighed,
Slapped his knees and stood
He turned off the TV and took your mother’s hand “Should we be worried?” They walked down the hallway You just laughed at me and hummed a tune until

I heard their bedroom door shut and I turned Your grandmother cursed and rolled her wheelchair
Near the window She waited there in silence

In The Abandoned Hours of Morning

The sun was rising
Up over the pines
When I heard Amy
Screaming from inside
Her old man’s farmhouse

From behind a bush
In my wooded yard
I watched a doctor
Step out their front door
His head hanging low
And when he let go
The knob was stained red

I ran to the side
Of the house to see
Through the cracked window
Red palm prints along
The hallway’s white walls

Harvey was crying
Curled-up in the corner
Ripping the stuffing
From the belly of
His daughter’s rag doll

The Most Beautiful Thing I Have Ever Seen

Some homeless men come out the corner store
And walk to Jay’s old empty car repair
A shop where metal scraps are sold by day
Where lost soul wino-junkies meet by night

The men are standing shifting shoeless feet
While sucking bottles deep in paper bags

The youngest man walks away and spots
A flower that grows from cracks beneath his sole
He wraps his hand around the rose for warmth
Like flames that curl from cans in winter time


Harold Lorin
hal.lorin@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

Lorin has published extensively in Computer and Information Science where he has his primary career He has had some success publishing poetry and stories on-line and in paper anthologies He believes truth lies only in poetry and fiction Favored poets are T.S Eliot, Yeats, Billy Collins W.S Merwin Favored novelists are Joseph Conrad, Anthony Powell, Kundera, and George Eliot Lives in New York City, man and boy, which he considers to be the known center of the universe.

The following work is Copyright © 2007, and owned by Harold Lorin and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Stele

At the center of the silence
The cemetery and encyclopedia
Link as one memory
Of what was lost to the Book of The Dead.

After the Pharaoh and the Fuehrer
One must not pose questions Finally one is a Jew because
The book and the stone demand it Finally one is a Jew because
There is nothing else to be.

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