September 30 – October 6, 2013: Gerry Mark Norton and Greg Farnum

Gerry Mark Norton and Greg Farnum

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Gerry Mark Norton
gerrymarknorton@hotmail.co.uk

Bio (auto)

Gerry Mark Norton was born in 1989 in London, England, where he currently resides. He has self-released one book of poems, Sick Roses, and two albums of music, A Momentary Lapse in Lethargy and Feasting, Dancing & Revelry. He has been published in Quail Bell, Misfits’ Miscellany, Eskimo Pie, Red Ochre Literature, The Rusty Nail, Danse Macabre, and Circa Review, and has work forthcoming on Eunoia, The Vehicle and The Toucan.

The following work is Copyright © 2013, and owned by Gerry Mark Norton and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

…and Knitting

I have my ways, and I do things in them,
And I own these ways, and I make them like a rhino.
My way is like a sporadic spray.
My way collects as multihued spume.

I have my viridescent armour, glinting;
I have my cup of fletcherized cud.
I writhe in my own filth like exfoliating mud.
I dive into fogs of arboreal horror.

Hurtling towards the cease point,
I keep the inert chasms furtive;
Me in my situation is a trophy:
I hold it to prove I am here and worthy.

The tender ripples of my heart are sub-par;
All they prove is perpetuity, and its indifference to it.
The roaches scurry under crags to stay,
So I sit and knit my worries palpable.

 


Greg Farnum
gtfarnum@yahoo.com

Bio (auto)

Greg Farnum has been a soldier, factory worker, ad executive, editor, and (following one of the many recessions) a pizza deliveryman, finding time to write Doctor’s Testament, a collection of poetry; The Event, a novel; The Pizza Diaries, a memoir; and The Celestial Railroad, an experimental narrative. He is currently at work on a new novel, Farther Than I Thought. He lives in Auburn Hills, Michigan, and is on Facebook.

The following work is Copyright © 2013, and owned by Greg Farnum and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

In an Unguarded Moment, Fastlane104 Reveals Itself

The magazines promised to take me inside Adele’s world.
It was the big box store.
I had stopped in to listen to the In-Store Broadcasting Network,
it was giving me helpful diet tips.
Excited pixels invited my purchase.
I obeyed the command to enter my PIN number
“I’m from the future” I told Fastlane104,
“Me too” it replied.
Outside on the vast concrete plain of the parking lot
a cold rain had swept in.


Elegy For a KFC Sign

The oddness of it,
the Kentucky Fried Chicken sign
stripped bare,

its metal skeleton searching the sky,
some top secret radar perhaps
intercepting messages, detecting “chatter,”
about which we are not supposed to know.


The Heroes Come to the Spam File

More heroes had come home. I was deeper in debt.
And then to the spam file:
Dog food coupon revolution.
The matter of each moment,
its ticking content in the book of life.
Nazi bride murder. . .
Rat meat sold. . .
Disturbing stats on war vets
Israeli missiles strike again
Miley Cyrus: I’m no.1 on Maxim’s Hot List
Cyber everything
At the door,
the wolf.