Showing posts with label Colin Gilbert. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Colin Gilbert. Show all posts
Beehive
By Colin Gilbert
Today, I ate my first ‘peanut butter
and jelly sandwich.’ It tasted like honey
bees shat between slices of bread.
Missionary children love this food.
But my stomach feels like a quicksand pit.
My head is a balloon.
- - -
I am the current Editor of Lamplighter Review and, in addition to winning the 2006 Chicago State University Hughes, Diop, Knight Literary Award, I have poems appearing in recent or upcoming editions of Pedestal Magazine, Matrix, Minglewood, Plain Spoke, Gloom Cupboard, CC & D and Cantaraville.
By Colin Gilbert
Today, I ate my first ‘peanut butter
and jelly sandwich.’ It tasted like honey
bees shat between slices of bread.
Missionary children love this food.
But my stomach feels like a quicksand pit.
My head is a balloon.
- - -
I am the current Editor of Lamplighter Review and, in addition to winning the 2006 Chicago State University Hughes, Diop, Knight Literary Award, I have poems appearing in recent or upcoming editions of Pedestal Magazine, Matrix, Minglewood, Plain Spoke, Gloom Cupboard, CC & D and Cantaraville.
What Poems
By Colin Gilbert
painted across the new face of man
awakening from unlearned sleep
bled between shackle and wrist
from fire to dark
cut from the final yarn of earth
where mercury confides with sun
stained by water upon levies
in the growing stench of death
forgotten begging to be written
to touch the page
tasted by children’s fingers
screamed from the pullbacks of whips
whispered between my eyes and your face
my lips and your name
- - -
I am the current Editor of Lamplighter Review and, in addition to winning the 2006 Chicago State University Hughes, Diop, Knight Literary Award, I have poems appearing in recent or upcoming editions of Pedestal Magazine, Matrix, Minglewood, Plain Spoke, Gloom Cupboard, CC & D and Cantaraville.
By Colin Gilbert
painted across the new face of man
awakening from unlearned sleep
bled between shackle and wrist
from fire to dark
cut from the final yarn of earth
where mercury confides with sun
stained by water upon levies
in the growing stench of death
forgotten begging to be written
to touch the page
tasted by children’s fingers
screamed from the pullbacks of whips
whispered between my eyes and your face
my lips and your name
- - -
I am the current Editor of Lamplighter Review and, in addition to winning the 2006 Chicago State University Hughes, Diop, Knight Literary Award, I have poems appearing in recent or upcoming editions of Pedestal Magazine, Matrix, Minglewood, Plain Spoke, Gloom Cupboard, CC & D and Cantaraville.
