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 Fathom 1990

Cover

 

Inside Cover

 

Poetry

Gina M. Beaton
S.M. Webb (4)
S.A. Galliah (2)
Joe Blades (3)
Rick Armstrong
Timothy Dansdill
Louann M. R. Scallion
G.J. Munro
Laura L. Beaton
Edward W. N. Meers
Nick Lolordo (2)
Mike Butler
Lisa Michelle Fiander (2)

Prose

Yassarian King
Martin Doucette

Artwork

H.A. Hutchinson

[PDF]

Joe Blades

 

 

[the bottle necks]

the bottle necks
           & slips
    easily inside

                I moan
          lowly
    lowly
it feels so good
           slipping in
I moan

it’s in me
           I feel it
moving
moving in me
           I raise myself
slip it in
     again &
     again &
     again
        in
           I sip
I sip
      guzzle
slip it in again

& my mouth fills
I feel filled
I want to be full

dont want feeling
to stop
        dont want to stop

 

Evidence (on one Side)

nothing confirms reason
it’s testy -
no proof:
          abandoned
          on the tarmac
          under the airplane
          a crate
          not on the manifest
cops watch

geese on the harbour migrate
no customs’ check or passports
no detention but detected some will random
down their bodies exploded senseless    metal
shot into their flesh from frozen
camouflaged stake-outs
          dogs collect the still
warm oral

          no admission
          the marijuana    just
          left there       an internal
          connection missed

their hands slap
down your body
searching -
          & stupid
          just couldn’t throw
          the apple core
          litter

 

Gas Bar

here the poet laboured    brute
unaware   pumping gas for truckers to
halifaxmontrealist. john’snewyorktoronto
philadelphiabostonvancouverchicagomexico
he hears road horrors unknown one-way
streets stripped trailers cabs gas siphoned
while sleeping 1/2 a load of onions stolen
during a red light bad runs bad outfits
truck breakdowns rigs coco stops...

and on the pumps with the post an attendant
who dreams of picking up a streetwalker and
taking her to a hotel room and
strangling her on the bed without
sex

together they pump gas  remove and insert
dipsticks in oil  wash windshields
while looking at the women inside

*                 *                *

the poet waits at the end of his shift
drinking a diet coke pulled
from the dispenser    trapped in uniform
he prays for his ride to arrive
and get him the hell out

*                 *                *

they all arrive at their destinations

 

last updated August 17, 2007 | © 2007 Fathom Publishing
poetry, prose, and artwork © individual authours | website created by Alana Paul