May 1-7, 2006: Corey Mesler and Gwendolyn Joyce Mintz

week of May 1-7, 2006



Corey Mesler and Gwendolyn Joyce Mintz


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Corey Mesler
chmesler@earthlink.net

Bio (auto)

COREY MESLER is the owner of Burke’s Book Store, in Memphis, Tennessee, one of the country’s oldest (1875) and best independent bookstores He has published poetry and fiction in numerous journals including Rattle, Pindeldyboz, Quick Fiction, Cranky, Thema, Mars Hill Review, Poet Lore and others He has also been a book reviewer for The Memphis Commercial Appeal A short story of his was chosen for the 2002 edition of New Stories from the South: The Year’s Best, published by Algonquin Books.   Talk, his first novel, appeared in 2002 Nice blurbs from Lee Smith, John Grisham, Robert Olen Butler, Frederick Barthelme, and others He has a new novel, We Are Billion-Year-Old Carbon, just out from Livingston He has 6 chapbooks due out in 2006  He also claims to have written, “Sunshine Superman ” Most importantly, he is Toby and Chloe’s dad and Cheryl’s husband.

The following work is Copyright © 2006, and owned by Corey Mesler and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

The Best Effects Available

The face in the coffeepot
is unfamiliar The dog
whines and dines
on the back stoop My wife
stoops to add a bit
of catfood to his diet The
seventh son arrives
just in time for the timer
to go off It goes off
early At dinner we are all
gathered at the stable The face I carried from the
breakfast eggs to this
is one long whisper It says, we age, we change,
the best we can do is
hold up our and And, that’s
the final thought as
the sunsets shoots through
the bedroom walls
in what we take as the
best effects currently available


After Basho

The moonlight lay like a pool before me I had come here to rid my heart of an oppression I had a song to sing, a poem to chant Instead I stayed on the shore of that pool, unsure
really if I came here as a swimmer or a bird.


The Abbie Hoffman Blues

I called a friend of mine I said, Mark,
I’ve got the Abbie Hoffman blues They’re  bigger than my head, and it’s hard
on my battered tabernacle Mark hummed a sympathetic hum He
said, friend, I know what you mean I woke up this morning with the
John Lennon Overcoat, so heavy I cannot
get out of bed Sorry, Mark, I said
quickly I’ll be ok And I lay down with
my coconut in the bathroom and my
heels in the den Stephanie put ìImagineî
on the spinner and we both began
to cry It was the Jag of Janis Joplin
and our tears fell like spun glass till dawn Our tears fell like ripe grass before the scythe.

I Used to Be Honey

I used to be honey, honey for some
lovely young women,
an attractant as serious as gravity And we wheeled about
like stars, crashing as waves crash,
as lights burst I still feel that ache and I’m sorry
that I do It’s a useless throbbing, more of the
planet’s worthless excess Here I am, older and fattened like a
goose, still feeling it,
that unrepentant tidal pull, the intemperate waft
of youthful flesh, leading
me on, leading me ultimately back
here.


Tell me if You Think This is Gonna be a Problem

The doctor poked me with a stick I turned on the spit
until my face showed the burn They gathered round
in their cowls and gowns, seemingly
dispassionate and smart Yet I stumped them, this quivering
meat, these popping petards Another doctor went for a sharper stick They all nodded Now, we’ll
see, they mustered I lay there, an ex-
posed nerve, an ex-propositis The room seemed a carnival to me,
spinning colors and dis-
torted music, clowns and noise, and
there in the middle of it
my role: freak Even to the experts,
my saviors, the rapists.


Gwendolyn Joyce Mintz
gjmintz@yahoo.com

Bio (auto)

Gwendolyn Joyce Mintz is a poet and fiction writer living in Las Cruces, a desert city where she writes, reads and loves.

The following work is Copyright © 2006, and owned by Gwendolyn Joyce Mintz and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

untitled

autumn .this morning awake
I lay listening to the

birds rustling in the nest on the roof
how long before

the flight? .beside me, you,
still in sleep
.I reached out–

you stirred/shifted your body
but you didn’t wake even in sleep

you turn from me

Adolescence

We stood outside long after
the auditorium
had been opened to students frightened
by the cold
.huddled
together like the jr high
football team that we never cheered, we held
and rubbed each others’
gloveless hands a cigarette
making its rounds
like a diligent nurse (smoking
actually constricts the veins,
blood flow is harder; you’ll
just get colder)
They laughed at my genius
as we pulled closer, warmth falling
about us like those first flakes
of snow This is the way
it is when you are young.


break

across the counter he
hands over a dollar
bill
.worn &
crumpled his fingers tremble
for three coins change
one cup of coffee
(six refills) the warmth
filling him as he stares out
the window
thinking how he spends his life now
one quarter
at a time