An excerpt borrowed from Patricia Beer’s poem “The Lost Woman” (via brangwen-iii)
He had not looked,
pitiful man whom none
pity, whom all
must pity if they look
into their own face (given
only by glass, steel, water
barely known) all
who look up
to see-how many
faces? How many
seen in a lifetime? (Not those that flash by, but those
into which the gaze wanders
and is lost
and returns to tell
Here is a mystery,
a person, an
other, an I?
Denise Levertov “When We Look Up” (via womenofthebeatgeneration)
Because good could always be seen / Glimmering like lame glimmers / In the window of a shop / Called Beautiful
You were. You are / The brightest thing in the shop window / And the most beautiful seldom I ever saw.
— Mary Jo Bang"
Poetry has been taken hostage by the academy, but former poet laureate Robert Pinsky rides to the rescue. By Daniel Bosch.
Julia Cocuzza: Artist
know he is left handed because his gun
is on the other hip
2 Saint Giglio cops teeth
last fat cigars
water game Girl smokes American Spirit
hawked from an Okinawa fence
& when she’s home,
it’s to 5 rooms & 20 strangers
the baby cries
read dailies off sitter’s shoulder
bitter deli coffee, dogs
howl by crossroads
by bought drinks, for brushed skin
in drives home & diner parking lots
water game girl is done
with her American Spirit
say a novena, babita
on Mount Saint Carmel’s steps
drugs sell better
to a ripped collar—
“Place your bets, just a dollar!”
Home grown from Bensonhurst, Kate Conte has dabbled in mischief & words for over a decade. She was Senior Editor for the Brooklyn College literary magazine The Junction for four years, plays electric guitar, paints & currently kickboxes the crap out of body bags three days a week.
Blake’s are of a by-gone era
flashing in the trees like
torn doilies and plastic bags
Our messengers will not be soft or spare
or sound like feed sacks
falling on hay
rather their feathers
are a grim, ripe speech
over a fire escape and a clothesline
an absence, acutely like death
but without its approval
a life running parallel but apart
but then, even the birds have changed
will become a crow
a star of oil in the snow
bearing a slim banner
like street lights speaking to themselves
in a storm
they are pedestrian
flashing their signals for an empty street
crossing one divide
for another darkness
Born and raised in the Atlantic Ocean, Caitlin Scott is new to Brooklyn and the big city. She is a recent graduate of Yale Divinity School, a hospital chaplain and personal chef who sells wine in the meantime. Caitlin loves every iteration of the avocado and the cactus- fiddles, autoharps, Whitman, and civil war reenactments. She is interested in the restorative power of salt water, and the uneven cartwheels of grace. She is currently on the hunt for a good cast iron skillet and a tattoo artist.
More of Caitlin’s work in the third issue! Come and get it!
Sophie Suttonberg is a young sydney-sider who to some is none but possessor of ultra groovy dance moves, a love of carrot cake and a slightly precocious
desire to always refer to herself in the 3rd person. To others though,
a passive-aggressive people watcher from way back who would really like to take your picture.
Check her out and other talented ladies in Issue 3 of You Should Be Here!!