|
Home |
Dedication |
Editorial |
Submissions |
About Us |
Back Issues |
Contact Us |
Links
|
 |
|

Andrew Demcak is an award-winning poet who has been widely published and
anthologized both in print and on-line. His latest book of poetry, Catching
Tigers in Red Weather, has won the Three Candles Press Open Book Award.
His poems, including "Young Man With iPod" are taught at Ohio State University. At
the age of 23, Andrew published his first chapbook, The Psalms (Big 23
Press). When he is not hard at work driving the Bookmobile for Oakland Public
Library, he can be found attending "GuyWriters" poetry readings at Anthony's house
in San Francisco, or eating Tibetan momos with his partner, Peter.
|
Parliament Hill Fields
One pear tree, in the snowfield, points a hand
skyward, having dropped every Bartlett.
The year’s close conspicuous; the hill glows
and the mud beds whiten. Leaves wither, ghosts
on dark boughs. Wan frost glints like sugared
tin. Heel-prints glittering on grass, all smudge.
The sun settles its indigo nimbus.
Icy melts stir the inky pond bottoms
to a tumult, a pooling of fresh faith.
|
Candles
Spermy frills radiate out, pushing light
from deep hollows christened with dulling
pearls. They float in imagined alcoves,
wicks prickling in church hush beneath flames.
Edwardian wax is tentative white.
Judicious shadows shed stooped halos,
ever burning heavenward: an odd glow,
in retrograde, among the mob’s fingers,
burnt bodies purging nun-soiled globs.
|
Face Lift
Old skin returns like a former husband.
I sit anesthetized; my frog-jowls
lopped in the tin basin. Wrapped by
mummy-cloth, that flabby dewlap withers
in some lab. I finger the white eyeholes
and red nostril vents. Cheeks peeled back some
20 years. Nude rolls of bones folding in.
Now: a smile like an Hermes handbag,
quality confirmed by its stitching.
|
Zoo Keeper’s Boyfriend
Who’ll woo the pork of an armadillo?
The clambering bears moisten the ramparts.
Spectacular, the fur of dingo tail.
Urine soaked sheets of rabbits at play.
Otters shining with nightly saliva.
A rhino’s horn penetrates the ripe sty.
Wolf sans trick only in an ark blueprint.
The boa hung from a biblical bough,
tongue deciding his next nubile mouse.
|
|
|
|