ISSN 1551-8086
return to home search for a contributing writer

seach for poems by title

archive of previous issues submissions information mailing list online store links to other interesting sites contact us  
  November 2016
volume 13 number 2
-table of contents-
 
  home  
 
  contributing poets
  Inalegwu Omapada Alifa
  Maria A Arana
  Shawn Aveningo
  Wendy Bourke
  Jack G. Bowman
  Alan Britt
  Adam Levon Brown
  Jeffrey Bryant
  Don Kingfisher Campbell
  Alicia Carpenter
  Natalie Crick
  Carla Criscuolo
  Frank De Canio
  Marvin Louis Dorsey
  Miguel Eichelberger
  John LaMar Elison
  Gabriella Garofalo
  Dave Houston
  Dani Raschel Jiménez
  Scott C. Kaestner
  Sofia Kioroglou
  Deborah P Kolodji
  Rick Lupert
  Donal Mahoney
  Afric McGlinchey
  Frank Mundo
  Chika Onyenezi
  Adam Phillips
  Bethany W Pope
  Nydia Rojas
  Diana Rosen
  Walter Ruhlmann
  Papa Vic
 
  home
  poets
  poems
  archive
  submissions
  mailing list
  store
  links
  contact
   
Adam Phillips
November 2016
   

 

bio


photo by marie c lecrivain

    Adam Phillips makes his living teaching at-risk junior high kids how to read, write, and dominate on the hardwood (these are three separate things; the kids rarely read or write while playing basketball). When not thusly occupied, he's f**king s**t up old school on the coastline of Rockaway Beach, Oregon, with his inimitable wife and two small sons. Recent/impending publications include upstreet, Blotterature, Shark Pack Poetry Review, Raven Chronicles, and Blue Monday Review. His first novel is forthcoming from Propertius Press

   

 

The Eater

if there has ever been a place
in my heart for the eater

the heart is a brain
misshapen, lost.

at the supermarket
in my brain I am the greeter

and you wear a nametag, a red vest,
and you are the boss.

Together, we watch

the cottony tentacles of the storm
reach down to scrape the parking lot.

Swallowed in a drab gray ocean.
Soaking in one unbroken

January afternoon.
(this is simply the heart speaking, dressed as a brain)

eater of souls. of dice. of bones. we're side by side
when the eater washes over, dissolving
trains, the fish market, you

who never believe anything I say.

copyright 2016 Adam Phillips