Sunday, March 30, 2014
Spring Chronograph: 18
Beyond miles of powder-green sagebrush,
dust white distant foothills... like winter-kill
horses at bitter water lakes. No good version
of early spring comes to mind: on the other side
of the Cascades, the dead swim a mud-slide river.
Friday, March 28, 2014
9 Early Poems
Tornado Watch presents nine Red Shuttleworth poems published between 1970 and 1980:
Wee Joe's Theory
A House with Carved and Painted Shutters
Sometimes I Am Lucky
The Boxer on Canvas
The Bullpen Catcher Considers His Condition
The Small Rustle
The poems in Tornado Watch first appeared, decades ago, in the Chicago Tribune Magazine (Marcia Lee Masters, poetry editor), Poetry Now (E.V. Griffith, editor), Road Apple Review (Doug Flaherty, editor), Snapdragon (Ron McFarland, editor), Southwest Review (Margaret Hartley, editor), The Texas Review (Paul Ruffin, editor), and The White Elephant.
Published in a limited edition by Bunchgrass Press, Red Shuttleworth's Tornado Watch is out of print.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Saturday, March 22, 2014
a chapbook poetry anthology featuring:
Envoy is published in a limited (44 copies) edition by Bunchgrass Press. To acquire a copy of Envoy, correspond with one of the three included poets.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Spring Chronograph: 14
That early burst of seasonal enthusiasm,
dream-sparkly as broken beer bottle glass...
scab rock and green of non-native evergreens:
you dream a blackboard, quatrains of Yeats.
A shower-cloud renders judgement on your face.
Monday, March 17, 2014
Under a Darkened Sky
after Sean O'Casey's Drums Under the Windows
Whiskey night... descending angel in a wolf skin cloak,
Good God, man: spectral March 17th shadows...
Padraic Pearse, face sidelong, hums a Rosmuc tune,
GB Shaw on his bum, cackles at a leather breviary,
James Connolly, strapped to a chair, bleeds-out.
Rain and wet-brow nods on Grafton Street:
Behan drunk in a trillion photographs at McDaid's.
At Gardiner Place, Cathal Goulding rasps,
Have you been reading your Karl Marx?
Rathfarnham: dusk... high grass... momentary lovers
hand-in-hand... at Pearse's Hermitage for a window peek.
March 17th... hardly a day for the Virgin-Born.
Chill winds.... Books, theatre against shame
and dank Dublin nights: bewildering for O'Casey
to march, for a hundred Easters, wisps of night,
green uniform, behind Connolly's waddle,
behind Pearse, I bring not peace but a sword.
Cathal Goulding (Dublin 1969)
Chief of Staff, Irish Republican Army, 1962-1972
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Spring Chronograph: 12
Unpretentious cataract. The moon appears...
reappears through sculptor-ghost clouds.
Closing time for saloons in this time zone.
Your shadow pauses, a woodcut on scab rock.
The moon, wink of arctic-blue: a stumbler's charm.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Hold on tight: blood-internal jogs
its ebony-death circuit.. and the mouth
gives unexpected glimpse of new-hatched
curse and decay. And goodnight, folks.
So little locks together in deep water.
We ask for rigorous radar eyeballing.
We ask for elsewhere and for coincidence.
Think of a napkin kept aloft by a breeze.
Profusion-liliaceous upon deep water.
Purple-backdrop prayer... suspended
breath-and-choke: the ghost-plane.
Sequencing of dark depth is grief-impossible.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Spring Chronograph: 6
Beat-up basalt pillars and light drizzle:
commonplace exhibition of dated divinity....
Decades at breakneck speed for an inner life.
Now your dreams roll out in whiskey barrels,
knock-about skits, every nap a somersault.
Pamphlet, a Red Shuttleworth chapbook published by Bunchgrass Press in a limited edition, features two significantly revised poems from 2011 (Red-Eye Flight and Tattered Edge of Town), plus a new poem (A Shrub... a Shelter Tree).
Columbia Basin, Washington
(between Moses Lake and Ephrata-Soap Lake)
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
The ground remains too frozen to dig deep for reason.
There is spotlighting from passing pick-ups...
deer entrails in roadside ditches.
Enormous old, rusted-out combines:
clouds billow eastward... much larger than Walmart cows.
Is it enough to use knowledge for momentary relief
from domestic complications? Prescription drugs...
side effects: grey skin, blue skin, blotchy lips,
water retention, pimples, boils, loss of humor, stroke.
What we know is largely the result of apologies:
gold-bill magpies sweep down to clean up yesterday...
homemade spaghetti on death-yellow backyard grass.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Saturday, March 1, 2014
in opera-green outfits
hop out of big-tire trucks.
The sky curves and shakes.
Even the archival is provisional.
The better neighborhoods are littered
with pork-scented Ukrainian flags.
It is a Crimean Saturday:
Stalin's cackling-drunk ghost
pours Georgian blood-wine,
toasts the forever-exile of Tatars.
Itchy narrow-ribbed dogs
wait for stale, tobacco-dough,
Russian biscuit crumbs...
chance a bullet to a floppy ear.