Monday, April 23, 2012

April 2012

Post the First: Genesis or Something

We are ridiculously excited to finally get this project underway!  The city of Omaha is thirsty for your poetry and OH.  It shall be slaked.  It will get such a slaking!  Omaha has a vibrant arts scene featuring the biggest Playhouse in the country, most restaurants and millionaires per capita, revolutionary music scene (The Saddle Creek sound), and an increasingly momentous Slam poetry community.  Our goal here is simply to ignite the world with poetry.  Specifically your poetry.
 Poetry surrounds us textual or otherwise.  With Grawlix Poetry we hope to (as E. E. Cummings has said) open the eyes of your eyes.  Enjoy.

 

Whish

By Elliot Ian Ross
-First published in the Medulla Review-

Wheat frisked, little hulls jump, jump
Whispering grasshopper names like Snikt and Fft
As more reeds are tickled they spring into the waving
Whish of wheat into which the gale traces figure S’s
A brush through hair, the hush of an eyelid batting delicate lashes
The sashaying of the fox’s whiskers in his vixen’s absence 

 

Iconic candy store, also linked to an excellent vintage and antique shop.
(On the "Now Playing" sign).
Skyward view of a downtown sunset.
 Cosmetics mirror at Target.  So before you get vane...
 For second floor spies like me.
For the monkey.
For the dogs.
On the shatter.

 

Meditation 

By Jim Fleming 

 

Nothingness is not a negative

No.

In a grain of sand way

In a star counting way

A release from importance

A reprieve from the sentence

to uphold that nebulous image of

Uniqueness.              No.

Luxuriate in nothingness

Allow it

 The Om Center of Healing Arts is not only a perfect place for this poem, it's also an arena for many poetry throwdowns. 
No No No Yes.  
 Propane cage.  Everyone should have a poem on a propane cage.
 Contemplative turtle at Henry Doorly Zoo, one of the best zoos in the nation.
 Tank.
 Coral.
A lightpole in Dundee. 

Honest Pond

By Schofield Alan 

 

Wondering beyond the field, A Pond
With no song at all ‘neath its surface.
Ripples yawn, as do the dawn and such blurrings. 
Under them, brightly fawn water and naught. 

Swan and dragonfly dream
of diving to see if the clarity true
But none do.  And even if they did,

they would vanish.
 

By the renowned M's Pub downtown.
 On the glass above The Passageway crosswalk.
 On the nuts shelf in a Menards.  As I was taking this, Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On was climaxing over the loudspeakers.  It was a nice moment.
 Gumballs.  Apple gumballs. 
Food court window.
Big clock in Dundee

Spring is the perfect time for giving up completely

By Shane McKinney

 

in place of being
anywhere
our dual contours and divinations
spooning needle eyes of space
and throwing hands at truth the way
a stroke of grass will seem to seethe
with secret oaths
collapsing circles,

you've been leaving braille and bokeh
wings of Hypnos and slow debridements.

won't you swallow
all of it: Spring,
eidetic
histories?

 


 This is what regular lights look like in downtown Omaha.
 (Poem on giant light- camera couldn't take the contrast) That's a horse and buggy in the background.
 Old city noir type shot.
 Mall entry.
 I was trailed for a while for this one.
Bearded man reads poem.

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