Sunday, September 30, 2007

October 2007

My favorite month (My birthday month).
Features Paul Hostovsky and Catrina Porter.

Paul Hostovsky


On the train
heading south
all the seats
facing north
like the meeting
of east and west our
heads turning slowly
on the headrests
toward each other
like two completely different
ways of life coming together
on either side of a body
of water
our eyes like
scouts or messengers
studying each other
from opposite shores
before entering
that water
wading through it
exchanging aloft
the moist and crumpled

Civil Resolution

an erection is no
reflection of love;
and whereas a yellow
hard-hat is no
flower; and whereas
a man pausing on the sidewalk
to look through a peep-hole
at men in hard-hats building
a building is not
only a beautiful thing
but quite possibly a joy forever--
now therefore be it resolved
that all of the bulldozers
and all of the backhoes
at construction sites all over the city
observe a moment of stillness
at exactly
letting the tines of their buckets
rest quietly on the ground
in honor of
credulous hungry lovers
all over this great city,
and be it further resolved
that a copy of this resolution
be posted above
all the post no bills
and hard-hat area signs
throughout our beloved city
which is growing
in all directions
for all our great love.

Fishing Vest

It had a hundred pockets.
I don't like fishing but I like hyperbole.
I like a poem that can hold
numerous small swindles
and lots of harmonicas, a childhood memory
and an imitation turd from a novelty shop
on Hancock Street. I saw the vest in the window
of the sporting goods store, and I thought:
now every poem shall have its pocket.
I thought let there be plenty of pens
and pocket combs, a box of raisins,
a pocket watch, a pocket dictionary,
and maybe a pack of cigarettes. I hadn't
smoked in years, but now I wanted to buy a pack
just to carry around in my pocket like a poem
I'm working on, taking it out now and then
to keep me company, to keep my fingers
and my breath busy, which is why
I think I bought that first one all those years ago.

Paul Hostovsky's poems appear widely online and in print. He has been featured on Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, and the Writer's Almanac. He works in Boston as an interpreter for the Deaf. To read more of Paul's poetry, visit his website at

Catrina Porter

Come away with me...

And skip rocks
along the rings of Saturn.
Wish upon a star
that shoots like an arrow
from Athena's bow
waging a war against the night.

Hop Scotch on the planets,
chalking out our space in the universe.

Straddle a comet
that streaks through a sapphire sky,
as we try to pin its tail somewhere
on the skirts of the milkyway.

Come away with me...

Trail the edges of eternity,
and leave footsteps in the sands of time.

Catrina Porter is a 30-year-old female living in the Sierra Nevada mountains of California. Originally from Louisiana, she is single with no children. She enjoys writing, reading and listening to music. She has been writing poetry for nearly 20 years.

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