Juliet Cook's Blog, page 23
March 25, 2022
New! A poem of mine is appearing in the Spring 2022 Issue of Scapegoat Review!
"Maybe your brain has become a rotting plum.
Maybe your mouth has been filled with expired
dripping pabulum that nobody else wants
to gaze upon or even try to understand."
in my poem "MENTAL METEOR SHOWER", which appears in the new Spring 2022 Issue of Scapegoat Review!
read more here - http://www.scapegoatreview.org/spring-2022/juliet-cook
Maybe your mouth has been filled with expired
dripping pabulum that nobody else wants
to gaze upon or even try to understand."
in my poem "MENTAL METEOR SHOWER", which appears in the new Spring 2022 Issue of Scapegoat Review!
read more here - http://www.scapegoatreview.org/spring-2022/juliet-cook
March 22, 2022
New! Three poems of mine are appearing in A Thin Slice of Anxiety!
"From stuck pig to stuffed pig.
The ongoing ugly gestures of my body's
impending Armageddon. "
The ongoing ugly gestures of my body's
impending Armageddon. "
Delighted to have three new poems appearing in A Thin Slice of Anxiety!
read more HERE - http://www.athinsliceofanxiety.com/2022/03/poetry-selections-from-juliet-cook.html
March 14, 2022
March 13, 2022
The NEW March 2022 Flock of Thirteen Myna Birds is HERE!
Offering poetry by Lorna D. Keach, Lauren Reynolds, Kristin Garth, John Grey, Derek Lake Berghuis, Jan Ball, Maria Cameron, Meg Smith, Lillian Necakov, and art by MISH!
Visit the flock HERE - https://13myna.blogspot.com/
The ticket seller is asleep in his cage - my room had no window, only white liquor and a monsoon - the one who loves you shows you the trees full of hooks - like the leaf-light of the darkest forest - A room full of shrunken heads - with a gravel crunch and the click of teeth - willing to stand there skeletal but proud, with tiny brown corpses littered at their feet - more a death sentence, than impediment - Footsteps on their way and the figure could be skeletal, could be gaunt, could be anybody - I could see you becoming prey to some larger insect or bird - a wildness I’ve tried to hide, but can barely contain - I’m compelled to shelter Barbies in a plastic house inside a wooden one I own - Programmed and predictable, we are dominated by prayer - Behind the curtains of an invisible world - why would all your meat, be covered by a flimsy skin coat? - reflecting the thin arms of bare trees - The flaming sky signed our names in blood - The porcelain lamp shattered in your hand, and left no doubt - hearts holler joyfully into the black earth - tucked into the endoskeleton of your former lover - White light creeps into your eyes, where nothing lives.
Lagoon by MISH
Visit the flock HERE - https://13myna.blogspot.com/
The ticket seller is asleep in his cage - my room had no window, only white liquor and a monsoon - the one who loves you shows you the trees full of hooks - like the leaf-light of the darkest forest - A room full of shrunken heads - with a gravel crunch and the click of teeth - willing to stand there skeletal but proud, with tiny brown corpses littered at their feet - more a death sentence, than impediment - Footsteps on their way and the figure could be skeletal, could be gaunt, could be anybody - I could see you becoming prey to some larger insect or bird - a wildness I’ve tried to hide, but can barely contain - I’m compelled to shelter Barbies in a plastic house inside a wooden one I own - Programmed and predictable, we are dominated by prayer - Behind the curtains of an invisible world - why would all your meat, be covered by a flimsy skin coat? - reflecting the thin arms of bare trees - The flaming sky signed our names in blood - The porcelain lamp shattered in your hand, and left no doubt - hearts holler joyfully into the black earth - tucked into the endoskeleton of your former lover - White light creeps into your eyes, where nothing lives.
Lagoon by MISHFebruary 28, 2022
Me, the last day of February, 2022...
(how is it the last day of February already?)February 26, 2022
February 21, 2022
New! Three new poems of mine are appearing in the Terror House ("Death Will Always Exist," "Field Dressing Fantasy," and "Body Captivity")
"...You’re horrified by the idea of not existing
and that nobody will remember you very well.
You won’t be able to remember yourself
or think for yourself or speak for yourself
and that’s your current interpretation of Hell.
Whenever you have one of your unexpected seizures,
you then spend weeks feeling negative and afraid
of unexpected death. You don’t feel ready to not exist yet."
Three new poems of mine are in the Terror House today - "Death Will Always Exist," "Field Dressing Fantasy," and "Body Captivity". You can read more HERE - https://terrorhousemag.com/exist/
February 18, 2022
New! A collaborative poem by j/j hastain and me, SUBLIMINAL BODY JEWELRY IS THE NEW LEADER , is newly appearing in BigCityLit!
"Within one week, three nose rings flew out of my nose,
hit the floor and quickly dispersed.
A month later one of them submerged
from the carpeting and sky rocketed up to the ceiling
like a tiny UFO. It wanted my nose to join it.
Next thing I knew I was missing my vertebrae,
sequined maggots were stitched to the top of my ears
and invertebrate inventory was being conducted
on my hair..."
***
Happy Friday!
I am delighted to have a collaborative poem by j/j hastain and me, "Subliminal Body Jewelry Is The New Leader" appearing in the new issue of BigCityLit!
The lines above are the beginning of the poem and you can read more by clicking this link - https://nycbigcitylit.com/article/subliminal-body-jewelry-is-the-new-leader/
hit the floor and quickly dispersed.
A month later one of them submerged
from the carpeting and sky rocketed up to the ceiling
like a tiny UFO. It wanted my nose to join it.
Next thing I knew I was missing my vertebrae,
sequined maggots were stitched to the top of my ears
and invertebrate inventory was being conducted
on my hair..."
***
Happy Friday!
I am delighted to have a collaborative poem by j/j hastain and me, "Subliminal Body Jewelry Is The New Leader" appearing in the new issue of BigCityLit!
The lines above are the beginning of the poem and you can read more by clicking this link - https://nycbigcitylit.com/article/subliminal-body-jewelry-is-the-new-leader/
New! A collaborative poems by j/j hastain and me, SUBLIMINAL BODY JEWELRY IS THE NEW LEADER , is newly appearing in BigCityLit!
"Within one week, three nose rings flew out of my nose,
hit the floor and quickly dispersed.
A month later one of them submerged
from the carpeting and sky rocketed up to the ceiling
like a tiny UFO. It wanted my nose to join it.
Next thing I knew I was missing my vertebrae,
sequined maggots were stitched to the top of my ears
and invertebrate inventory was being conducted
on my hair..."
***
Happy Friday!
I am delighted to have a collaborative poem by j/j hastain and me, "Subliminal Body Jewelry Is The New Leader" appearing in the new issue of BigCityLit!
The lines above are the beginning of the poem and you can read more by clicking this link - https://nycbigcitylit.com/article/subliminal-body-jewelry-is-the-new-leader/
hit the floor and quickly dispersed.
A month later one of them submerged
from the carpeting and sky rocketed up to the ceiling
like a tiny UFO. It wanted my nose to join it.
Next thing I knew I was missing my vertebrae,
sequined maggots were stitched to the top of my ears
and invertebrate inventory was being conducted
on my hair..."
***
Happy Friday!
I am delighted to have a collaborative poem by j/j hastain and me, "Subliminal Body Jewelry Is The New Leader" appearing in the new issue of BigCityLit!
The lines above are the beginning of the poem and you can read more by clicking this link - https://nycbigcitylit.com/article/subliminal-body-jewelry-is-the-new-leader/
January 27, 2022
The First Thirteen Myna Birds Flock of 2022 is HERE!
Happy 2022 from Thirteen Myna Birds!
The first Thirteen Myna Birds flock of 2022 is now upon us, offering poetry and art by Kim Malinowki, MISH, jck hnry, Wayne F. Burke, Geoff Sawers, and Peter Mladinic!Coffins rose up - I’m cloaked in red hood—spinning - bobbing to the Earth's surface - she sits on a stool behind a plastic barrier - wears a mask just as we all do right now - my dream notes are confusing and filled with dark images - sharp, dripping canines - my inbox is filled with stark reminders - not that big a deal unless you are the one in the box - They all hate you but none understand you - Silk webs wrap half a hawthorn - I might paint my face so that my face is like a mask - bleached spine on a library shelf - A mole in the middle of my forehead grew into an eye - Blink and you'll never blink again - Don’t stop till I say Stop.Dive in HERE - https://13myna.blogspot.com/
Mask by MISH
