coconutpoetry:

"Like Frank O’Hara, Gobble wears work-shirts to the opera and his feet are bare—these poems aren’t just one thing, or another, they are instead stuffed with so much energy that they are spilling all over the pages. Like industrious, tiny humans, they seep everywhere, sprawling across memories and dreams, carrying with them scars and shreds of real hope. Even better, More Wreck More Wreck is bubbling with the absolutely kick ass beauty of a great imagination let loose. —Peter Davis”
Get it + 5 others (Finn, Pafunda, Pope, Greenberg, and Livingston) for only $65 + free shipping!!

coconutpoetry:

"Like Frank O’Hara, Gobble wears work-shirts to the opera and his feet are bare—these poems aren’t just one thing, or another, they are instead stuffed with so much energy that they are spilling all over the pages. Like industrious, tiny humans, they seep everywhere, sprawling across memories and dreams, carrying with them scars and shreds of real hope. Even better, More Wreck More Wreck is bubbling with the absolutely kick ass beauty of a great imagination let loose. —Peter Davis”

Get it + 5 others (Finn, Pafunda, Pope, Greenberg, and Livingston) for only $65 + free shipping!!

He walks around the kitchen, touching things and

declaring their sadness—the frying pan, the fly swatter,

an old copy of the town newspaper. GIANT HORDE

OF JELLYFISH FILL ESTUARY—it had something

to do with oxygen levels, as these matters always seem to.

 

That was a few summers ago. You could dip into the water

and come out covered in pink jelly. Your body would glow

like a search light. That strange man is gone now.

 

He left with my water filter.

And I have closed the door.

myshoesuntied:

James Tate. “The Promotion.” I want to grow into this poem.

myshoesuntied:

James Tate. “The Promotion.” I want to grow into this poem.

Still can be purchased here for just $3. A sample can be read here or listened to here.

"I could imagine it in a way that felt like remembering"

Springtime Banjo Tune

I know your heart is something rounder
than a sphere when you open yourself like
a peach in the spring your legs are sunflowers
and your head is the harvest moon when I sing
I want you to hear and when I hate myself I want you to hate me
because sometimes I need someone to tell me I’m not worth it
but I know your heart has to be filled with something
maybe pomegranate seeds or plastic rings
my body is the parking lot overlooking the baseball fields
and there are no rocks on this ledge it’s all grass
it is spring I am awake and the raiders are going to win the super bowl
every black hole will disappear because I said so
and because last week I heard a man in the costco checkout line say
“the winter solstice didn’t come this year
so something has to happen” and he was buying lucky charms
so I’m going with him like I go with everything
and who put grape kool aid in the ocean
cause I want to help next time
all the fish are hyped on sugar and tweaking a little
but why isn’t the sky reflecting purple yet
yesterday I asked a woman that and all she did was
look at me and ask if I was the one who’d put soap
in the community birdbath cause there’s a dead bluebird on the cement
and there was a homeless man pointing and saying
“that was in my chest. that was in my chest”
and the police were called but they didn’t come
there was a robbery at the pet store and all the tortoises were missing
but the police really should have come and taken him to detox
so he could eat peanut belly and jelly sandwiches
cause that’s really what life’s about
the pb&j’s and dance parties
don’t look now but I’m shaking my hips
I know you can see me in the harvest moon’s light
and did you know I’m still thinking about that
the harvest moon
yes I am thinking of you
how you are there
how you are the seasons without names
i am chapped lips split open and bleeding in winter
you are made of glow sticks in my head
and I want to stick my finger in the fluid
to see if it will leave a mark