by Paul Hostovsky
I am writing
on the bathroom wall
at the summer writers’ conference
where all of the poets are sitting around
in their little tranquil groups
circle jerking
in my imagination: the blue-
haired lady with her notebook spilling
in her lap, the English teacher with his muscular
sensibility, the diffident housewife, musty
pastor, gay accountant, haiku bicyclist and me
all squirming and sighing with the pleasures
of words
and the spontaneous
overflows
of powerful feeling
emanating
from what we recollect
or maybe
make up as we go along.
More: Paul Hostovsky
GSR is saddened by the passing away of a member of our family, Nina Peach. Nina was 95 and the heart of Getting Something Read. Nina reviewed and sorted submissions, she answered the mail and often sent out personal notes to the writers we accepted and encouraging notes to those we did not.
She was a kind and loving soul. We will miss her.
by Aderemi Adegbite
You have come again,
Again you have come —
Uppity child,
Readily recognized indeed
By your regalia.
You have come again:
You, the awaited child,
With blemished marks
On the dome of your tummy.
This is your umpteenth time
Of coming through the same path.
Can’t you see that
My belly is no more fertile?
Milk of my breast
Is now sourer than sewer-stench.
Don’t think I’m singing songs
Of beckoning to you
For your coming this time!
I am in alliance with oracle-priests
And they’ve given your caucus
Poisonous food, on my behalf,
Under the sacred bambo tree,
And through this you’ve been
Disconnected from their network!
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha . . .
I shall give you no other name
Than your mystical name: KOKUMO!
The title of the poem is a Yoruba word, which means “This Shall NOT Die Again,” it’s a name given to a child that comes and goes at will – Abiku – just as it is in J.P Clarke’s Abiku and Wole Soyinka’s Abiku
But this KOKUMO is a reaction to the two poets’ works on the same subject. While J.P Clarke was busy begging the wicked child to have mercy on the mother, Wole Soyinka spoke for the child, saying that there is nothing that could be done for him/her to wait this time and anytime. Hence, in the Yoruba mythology on this subject, ABIKU can be averted if neccessary precautions are strictly followed. And this is what I’ve done in my poem KOKUMO. ~ Aderemi Adegbite
Added by the editor: From past to present and future: the regenerative spirit of the Abiku
by Michal Mahgerefteh
Darkness vows to demolish
my dream structure, poisons
my amniotic fluid. O’ Father!
Send your messengers, clothed
in words, to tie my hands with
a ribbon of identity; its primeval
glow will fancy my hands with
henna and strain my vocals with
piyyutim. Lift your harp to milk
my breath ‘til my outer skin brims
in the light of the summer moon.
piyyutim – psalms in Hebrew
More: Michal Mahgerefteh
by Margarita Engle
Rose petal jam, rosebud candy
carved into the shapes of people,
beasts, birds; syrup of violets,
the variations are soothing.
Even the names convey magic
mimosa butter sandwiches,
nasturtium sauce, marigold soup,
carnations for melancholy,
the fragrance of rose leaves and mint
for sleep, tucked in a pillow…dreams…
Originally posted 2008-06-02 10:46:59.
More: Margarita Engle
by Kristen Howe
Small doubled and rounded green leaves,
Straw-colored stalks, in red or brown,
Spots curved on a horseshoe shaped stem,
In midsummer, ripened spots cluster.
The stem slightly bent with a curve to my feel,
An emblem of fascination to all nature lovers alike,
With such profoundness, a symbol of sincerity to others,
This plant is a delight to have in your garden.
More: Kristen Howe
