ModPo & Experimental Poetry

Neurons

 

Within this tiny darkened space

Infinitesimal myriads race

Inside and out

To confound about

 

They tumble here and stumble there

And to my ire aloud they shout:

“He said this, she whispered that,

They bumped you there and tipped your hat,

What of, what if, who, what, where, when...!”

 

And when they finally come to rest

Like snowflakes from a blizzard's wrest

To snowflakes wafting slowly down

 

If I don't plow away the mass

Deluging clouds will soon befall;

To ice will snow be soon amassed

And then come myriads racing back.

Hallana

 

Youth Deprived

 

Observe well

The very many saplings that here dwell

Who with dreams of becoming trees

For abundant fruition one day

Grow gray, gray, gray –

Before fruition, they wither away.

 

Observe all the wrinkles

The discolored leaves;

Though the young sapling tries to heave

His listless young limbs and broken boughs

'Tis impossible, thus his head bows.

 

And when the sap runs down his flesh

He blinks to catch a glimpse below

To see what lies before him, deep and low

To grasp why his roots are numb and unsound.

 

To his astonishment and torment he found

That he had been planted in barren ground.

 

Thus did all saplings raise their voice

Moaning in sorrow did they curse their growth

And the day when their sowers sowed seeds of lust

Without considering

          Where they'd been thrust.

Hallana

 

Broken English

 

Stormy clouds 

pervade

 

Molecules of differing

magma

 

Which stem from 

multiple

 

Scenarios in a fluent

language

 

That is only understood by

cosmonauts 

Adam Brown

All I can hear is Ralph McTell's Streets of London

Though in this moment the stars still shine
and on a distant planet aliens are listening to a conversation
every child has had with his mother over the sound of warplanes
en route for that very particular mission
light then silence the language tossed like sand into the cosmos.

Deafening dark strata irradiates the universes de-vacuuming hiss
I feel relieved of this, that sentient shamanic outpouring,
the puzzle that vacillates.
"I'll show you something to make you
change your mind."

The Rubix Cubes undoing, dart boards in the attic, a hoopla hoops perished orbit
I'm hoarding my own Death Star from a near/far car park
this out of town urban centre the future Palmyra like Dali's timepiece eroding.

Am I the Aztec gunman with my Nazca lines fuzzing north?
Who will sing of "from there to here" ?

I will never leave this place alive only my words on 45,the aliens with turntables,
cassette and MP3 players,
slack jawed like Napoleon beholding the Rosetta Stone,
 an unreturned lend from the library of Alexandria.

Fallen drones carpet the way.

Terence Doyle

18:58

 

my life has fallen apart

tumbling

imperceptibly

wearing away

slowly, over months and years

 

but in these few seconds

the clock

stopped

all my private fantasies

and my gyroscopic body

came in touch

with the reality of the moment.

Lawrence Tirino

 

Mi vida se cae a pedazos

revolcando

imperceptiblemente

degastando

despacito, durante meses y años

 

Pero en éstos pocos segundos

el reloj

se paro

todas mis fantasías privadas

y mi cuerpo giroscópico

vino en contacto

con la realidad del momento.

Lawrence Tirino

COUNT ONE— FOUR

Dennis Andrew S. Aguinaldo works at the Department of Humanities of the University of the Philippines Los Baños.

*erasures of the criminal complaint of the United  States of America v. Artem Vaulin.

Better than Starbucks began wholly as a creation in my mind. Now the wonderful collaboration of four dedicated editors is creating a monthly magazine that I could have only dreamed about when I was starting out as a one person organization.

 

Having said that, there are no direct connections between U Penn, Al Filreis, KWH (Kelly Writers House), ModPo (Modern & Contemporary American Poetry), or any of the actual affiliated programs to ModPo and this magazine, other than I have been a part of ModPo for several years now. There is, however, a strong spiritual and intellectual connection between BTS and ModPo.

 

If I had not gotten involved in the larger community of ModPo, I don't think I would have restarted a literary publication. I am certain I would not have added a Formal & Rhyming Page, and probably not a Translations page. I have a pretty narrow preference for poetry, but the course and the people at ModPo have expanded my view of poetry to the point that I decided if I could find good people to help me do it, we would make BTS as broad of a source of styles and genres as possible. We have been fortunate to establish a team of talented editors and are in the process of an ever expanding quest to find poetry wherever it may be.

Thus, it seems fitting that we dedicate a page to my fellow students at ModPo, and/or anyone who wants to share experimental poems. The thing about experiments is, they often fail, but as the point is to learn, not to create perfection, even failed experiments, in the lab or on this page will offer something for us, if we will find it. and when the experiment doesn't fail... well, you will see! - Anthony Watkins