June — 2017 — The Monarch Review
Five Poems – Richard Kenney
Thursday, June 29, 2017 12:18 — 0 Comments
Epistemology, Dude He says beaucoup when he means a lot. I guess that means he’s polyglot. He talks a lot. His streak is blue. But I’m not sure it means beaucoup. Poetaster in Paris Risible, he who at Le Cafe Haute-Coif gaffes: gazing absently at a graceful jeune fille feels the unnoticed soda-straw nick his nostril, steals a glance sideways, scanning for witnesses, nurses his drink, and subsides once more into nuance. To Think While Doing a Hard Thing Is not always best. Still, he can’t help reflecting how once the grim wince came, climbing a rope hand […]
Two Poems – Graham Isaac
Thursday, June 29, 2017 12:11 — 0 Comments
Redirecting Limited Mental Space to Romanticizing the Current Situation We are teaching each other to make fists sowhen the time for punching comes,we don’t hurt ourselves.A poster ripped from a telephone pole orcovered with contradicting stickers. Reading up on railroads, both underground and for hopping. A lifetime of sweaty basements and darkened bars did surprisingly little to prepare us for guerilla warfare at the coffeeshop. Those phone calls to our representatives aren’t as glamorous, but we crush finger exercises and pop knuckles and shout solidarity with Princess Leia. A surprising number of people show up to the thing. Maybe it […]
Two Poems – Jacob Bennett
Monday, June 26, 2017 12:06 — 0 Comments
7th Grade If you start dressing like this for anything other than Halloween, we’re gonna have to talk, she said, as she used a foreign brush on my aqua-blue eyelids. I stood up and faced my step-sister’s mirror – the one that had seen me so many times before in her thongs and robes while she was at cheerleading practice. I adjusted the hair tie on my left pig tail and smoothed out the socks stuffed in the polka-dot blouse I had so carefully chosen at Wal-Mart. Hoping to bring home bigger candy bars, my brother and I went to […]
What am I?
Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies
Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;
Scientists can't find me.
Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—
Remind me:
The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…
Tick, Tock: Divine me.
-- Richard Kenney