About the (dys)functional poet:
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 is Zero Summer (BlazeVOX [books], NY, 2009.) His first poetry book, Catching Tigers in Red Weather (Three Candles Press, 2007), won the Three Candles Press Open Book Award. His poem “Handhold (for a Zygote)” won Goodread’s Newletter Poetry Contest. His poetry, including the poem “Young Man With iPod” (Poetry Midwest, #13), is taught at Ohio State University as part of its English 110.02 class, “The Genius and the Madman.” His poems/books have been featured recently at The Best American Poetry, The American Poetry Journal, Juked, MiPOesias, The Pebble Lake Review, elimae, Oranges & Sardines, and Pearl Magazine. Andrew’s new book, A Single Hurt Color (GOSS 183::Casa Menendez, 2010) will be released shortly. Visit Andrew at: www.andrewdemcak.com
Earth adores homeless iPhones, its werewolf moon, electrons,
little kitchens in New England or Hong Kong.
It has seen our thin cinema: Poe chain smoking in his ditch,
Bob Dylan as Beethoven, Margaret Thatcher stitched up in black.
The continents forget their solitude, find walking shorts.
Soil savors its neutrality, but appreciates uranium, of course.
The Death of Wallace Stevens
Through a keyhole,
the wordless fluency of pigeon wings.
Dates and limousines,
catty things overheard.
it was almost the truth.
A desire was born from his eyes,
whitened by his English tie and loosening suit.
A worm of need released from its page,
the short life of a verb-cooed paramour.
If poetry were a bruise,
then it was useful.
The heroine abandoned because of age,
a humbling of the second sex.
Apples were seen across a neighbor’s fence.
A discovered roll of francs,
Her lover’s affair with some female who read Colette.
September of old subjects:
nightly rain in the low-rent West,
chandeliers relieved of light.
Paris darkened like a thief.