Juliet Cook's Blog, page 147

New Poem Up (& Down) & At You

New poem of mine up at Underground Books, the Kitchen Poet - "What he's really sticking in" -

http://www.undergroundbooks.org/2/post/2012/11/poem-juliet-cook.html
 "I was a slice of hot red velvet cake zippered into
a malformed morph. He knew he wanted a bite or two;"

(The first two lines. Read the rest by clicking the link above.)

Limited Edition Poetry Chapbook - The Spare Room by Dana Guthrie Martin - temporarily available again in print

The Spare Room by Dana Guthrie Martin is a contest winning Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbook, originally published in 2009, and sold out in 2010. It is now being made available again for a limited time - from now until December 2012.

This artfully woven and disturbingly resonant suite of twenty poems by Dana Guthrie Martin combines myth with real life in unlikely ways and draws uniquely thought provoking parallels between torture scenes, sideshow attractions, scientific anomalies, and what it means to be a contemporary woman trying to stake out her own existence as an individual and as a partner. Sex, pain, isolation, and temptation are just some of the hot button themes Dana Guthrie Martin deals with in this unflinching, intense, and brutally poetic collection.

The wonderfully unsettling cover art for the chapbook is by Keith Part2ism Hopewell.
https://www.etsy.com/listing/113956071/limited-edition-poetry-chapbook-the

Late Night Halloween Poem

            Bloody or not, here I come                                 My open limbs suction cupped dirty tentacles.            Sweet tendrils got sucked into smithereens.            I’m not angel hair anymore. Jewels cracked
            into visceral chunks writhing out misshapen.            Green worms burst then crusted into zombie flesh.             Delve in and swallow, and then spit partially digested
            bloody pieces, string out my overloaded canals.            Hot beet thighs fuse with mutant monster eyes.            Mutilated strands clog brain waves down
            drains. My heart is a disabled fondue cauldron.            My cake hole dollops on/off garbage disposals.            Pleaseturn this blood bath doom spurt into new flows.
            I am an alien witch broom created from pumpkin guts.            Let me rise up whirring mango froth through thigh highs.             Let lightning stings affix primordial feather-zings.
            ~Juliet Cook~
                (previously published on Lingerpost) 

New poem of mine, posted here TEMPORARILY (on Halloween, I might replace it with a Halloween poem)

I don't usually place my poems upon my blog, but...


What he’s really sticking in
I was a slice of hot red velvet cake zippered into a malformed morph. He knew he wanted a bite or two;he pretended he wanted to heal my wounds; rise me up
inside his  oven; bake a hole platter of new drips of desirous frosting into my ears; his candy coating stuckhimself deep into me.  He turned me on entangled, then suddenly
dropped me; pulled himself out and backed far away intoa different state, to create another soufflé; dive right into another new craving; convince her she’s the greatest
since sliced red velvet sunk into gray. He lobs nocturnalemissions all over her bed. Seeking out the cake tray; gleaming bright with new desire; scheming to ream it with his honey
bun cooking skills. His tongue soundslike a one-of-a-kind spoon at first thena suckling spork then a shudder pump that rams and twists
away. Another semi-hollow cake hole wishing to be baked anew will become his latest fake temporal bone. Then just like that, a pinchhit from sweet wet dream into ripped seam left to drip dry by itself
and so on and sew on; turn it on & lob it in & sew it shut;sew her out of his head; save his kinky needles and threads for the next bobbin cruller. He wants,
he wants, but he doesn’t want you. He wants multiple servingtrays of fem food porn all over him. A whole line up of body form desserts, held on top,  held down, underneath, unfolded,
un-held, then on hold until they give up again.Once he leaves their bodies, he doesn’t care too much about their brains mottled menageries. (Sss)platter.

New Halloween-esque Thirteen Myna Birds - "beak smeared with slime"

New hideous writhings of oozing malformed Myna Birds wings frothing and flying and falling towards Halloween here - http://13myna.blogspot.com/
Offerings from Letitia Trent, Holly Day, Jessica Otto, Rachel M. Newlon, J. Bradley, Jamie Grefe, Daniel Mutch, Bill Wolak, and Daniel G. Snethen 
 "what will you say when it's me in the crib in a coffin - beak smeared with slime - flayed nerves and slippery blood vessels - dark sketched edges of bleeding - stars drip from the belly - pucker in flashes - melting into new curses - a swollen pupil - searching - corpses of splattered spills - empty bird’s nests - clenched fist of night - winter jutting up…"

I doubt you will read this so I’m putting it up on my blog so someone will

Hey, that’s what happens when a writer is suddenly ignored – not due to her writing, but due to her initial attractive emotional humanness suddenly morphing into insignificant nobody land in your mind. I seem to have rather swiftly declined from significant to nonexistent.  For who knows what reason, I suddenly don’t deserve to be read by you anymore or paid any attention to whatsoever, BUT…
Just in case you do read this, I am letting you know that I mailed something to your parents’ address today.  (A Halloween card and a few magnets I painted for your family members many months ago.  Also, a separate card and a few things for you). I would have asked you where to mail them to (your P.O. Box number or your parents’ home address), but you probably would have ignored that too – so I chose to mail them where someone will hopefully see them, open them up and appreciate them.
***
Last year on my birthday, we went to the Pittsburgh zoo together. You had driven to Pittsburgh the day before for a poetry reading I was a part of. We had a wonderful time together.
This year on my birthday, you ignored me even then. Didn’t even send me one of your Happy Birth-Anniversary tidbits on facebook.
***
I know I’ve said before that I think you use the word ‘broken’ too much, to describe yourself.  But now I will say that one realm in which you do seem to be broken is the realm of romantic relationships – in terms of how you dive in/dive out.
How and why do you choose to dive in/dive out the way you do?  Was the person you were attracted to at the beginning not even the real me, but just a new female body form?  And then once you got to know my mind more, you realized it wasn’t really your style?  You shouldn’t dive in so quickly then. You shouldn’t dive in until you do get to know the person’s mind more.
Maybe you like it that way – dive in, dive out, move on. I don’t.
Unfortunately, even though I dove into it more slowly than you did, I apparently dove into it more emotionally than you did. I know I’m the one who technically ended our relationship, but that’s because you were paying significantly less attention to me and I didn’t want to be ‘on-hold’ for who knows how long.
I thought we were at least still going to remain good friends, though (since we both said we were) – and now you’re just ignoring everything about me, as though I no longer exist. You dove in to me, super-excited – and then suddenly changed your pace and your pitch and your feelings.  And now you’ve just thrown me away – DOWN THE DRAIN.
I’m upset at myself - for allowing myself to become so emotionally involved/invested and to feel so strongly about someone who can so quickly change his pace and focus elsewhere - pitch me out, and move on to the next round.
At least I’ll continue to write about it all I want, including a new poem in progress. 

LAST DAY TO ENTER THE BLOOD PUDDING PRESS CHAPBOOK CONTEST

A reminder that TODAY OCTOBER 15 IS THE LAST DAY TO SUBMIT YOUR POETRY CHAPBOOK TO THE BLOOD PUDDING PRESS CONTEST!
Submissions will be accepted up through midnight the night of October 15!
More details here - http://bloodyooze.blogspot.com/2012/09/blood-pudding-press-is-accepting.html.

"a visceral fusion of creatures who are hybrids of human and animal and machine"

Another poet recently linked to this short older article of mine, called ‘Five Highly Recommended Living Poets’ – which prompted me to re-read the article to find out if I still felt strongly about those poets – and I did.  Thus the article is linked to below, as well as a quote from the beginning of the article AND small snippets from the sections related to each of the five poets.
http://voices.yahoo.com/five-highly-recommended-living-poets-2843495.html?cat=38
“the land of poetry happens to be a very multifaceted, highly-powerful, super-charged, vibrant, and dynamic realm abuzz with many colonies of exciting poets who are alive and writing today and who are very much relevant to current lives and the current zeitgeist”
“~Rebecca Loudon: Idiosyncratic and throbbingly visceral, Loudon mines loaded terrains of mental illness, longing, sex and other insatiable desires”
“~Lara Glenum: … I found myself thinking of it as 'post-apocalyptic porno poetry' and then I thought that it wasn't just post-apocalyptic, it was also post-porno-and kind of post-gender-and maybe even post-HUMAN”
“~Kristy Bowen: Evocative in its own unique way and flirting with themes related to femininity, the paranormal, the historical, and peculiar memory banks”
“~Tess Gallagher: For slightly more traditional tastes, Gallagher is a poet who has been publishing poignant, naturally descriptive, powerfully emotional, and non-didactic political poetry for years, some of it drawing upon her own life experiences including her childhood, her world travels, her loving relationship with fellow poet Raymond Carver and painful loss of him to an untimely death”
“~Lynn Crosbie: …obsessively and lushly fixated upon the seamier side of popular culture, the more dysfunctional side of romantic relationships, and other dark underbellies”
***
In other, more recent poetry-related news, TOMORROW OCTOBER 15 IS THE LAST DAY TO SUBMIT YOUR POETRY CHAPBOOK TO THE BLOOD PUDDING PRESS CONTEST (more details here - http://bloodyooze.blogspot.com/2012/09/blood-pudding-press-is-accepting.html).  Submissions will be accepted up through midnight the night of October 15!
Speaking of Blood Pudding Press, it’s not too late to investigate the Halloween Treats section of the Blood Pudding Press etsy shop here - http://www.etsy.com/shop/BloodPuddingPress?section_id=12101200. 
(The bloody mummy zombie mug below recently sold out, BUT a new one was painted last night and just needs to be glazed & fired before added to the BPP shop within about a week, just in time for Halloween.  Boo hiss.)

MORE Blood Pudding Press Halloween Treats!

Now the Blood Pudding Press shop offers a new one of a kind, hand painted pottery mummy zombie mug, which would be oh so strangely fun for drinking coffee, tea, mummy juice, zombie blood or whatever else you choose to slurp into.

Its multi-mutant colors include different variations/malformations of red and black and dark purple and gray on the outside. One bright red eye; one light purple eye.

Its innards include reds and black too - and also a spew of chartreuse.
Speaking of strange innards, of course there are also the darkly delicious oodles of BPP poetry chapbooks!

















Check it all out within the BPP etsy shop here - http://www.etsy.com/shop/BloodPuddingPress

Thirteen Myna Birds are newly oozy-licious

the heart mutates - its bioluminescent veil - blooms with thumbnails - bruised, white-belly body - swing my legs over the edgeNew(ly updated) Thirteen Myna Birds flock - http://13myna.blogspot.com/!
New poems by Joseph Harker, Rachel M. Newlon , Letitia Trent, & Holly Day.

(Older pieces still remaining by Paige Theriot, Sean McPherson, Adam Fieled, Michael Lee Johnson, & Misti Rainwater-Lites.)

***

As of right now I have seven darkly delicious slots still open for the mid-October Halloween rendition of the hideous haunted Myna Birds flock. Delve in, dive in, and/or submit. (I like it even darker than usual for the October rendition of the flock and if you whirl your stuff my way, you'll either be accepted or rejected - so...)