Category Archives: flash poetry

“Ineluctable You”, flash poem, LHNBs, Vol23

Ineluctable you

Grasp my hand

Hold on tight

Summer’s memories

Yet will return

If not in fact

For you and I

Are weightless

Iridescent

Free from notions

Bent on cruelty

Kiss my fevered lips.

 

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Filed under best thought, first thought, flash poetry, works in progress

In the Stillness, poem from Left Handed Notebooks, Vol 23

In the stillness

The snow heart

Slipped off the roof

An angel’s missive

From the dead couple

Whose home yet remained

In a limbo of lawyers

While from on high

These suffering souls

Sent down to the living

A valentine of blizzards

All is well, it said,

Love is all

Stop:

We are happy again.

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Follow us at Witts Inn Writers Retreat: Summer 2010

On foggy Monkfish Island somewhere off the Maine

Coast Near Portland (sometimes adrift it’s thought) is

Witts Inn Writers Summer Retreat (2010):

follow the fun goings on of a scribe tribe on a spooky island

 & listen to the gossip as they learn how to battle their uncertain

writing & social skills.

 

Go to: http://twitter.com/StallingsJim

Begins May 27/Memorial Day weekend & ends after Labor Day

******More to come here on blog after Labor Day

a spontaneous Twitter novel by Jim Stallings

 

 

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Filed under American popular culture, best thought, erotica, fiction, first thought, flash fiction, flash poetry, literature, literature and movies, poetry, prose poetry, troubled people, works in progress

At Witt’s Inn: Twitter novel-in-progress

So just by accident I happened to start a narrative on Twitter from the phrase overhead “at wit’s end”. But I heard it also as “at Witt’s Inn.” And so, for a while at least, I’m having some fun improvising installments or dispatches from this island writer & artist retreat on mysteriously foggy Monkfish Island. It’s exact location off the coast of the U.S. is in question as it seems to move about along the various coastlines. The important thing is that we seem to overhear the meditations and concerns of resident writers & artists in Twitter’s 140 character frames.

The experimental dispatch novel is now only a week or two old but we’re hopeful our link to the island will remain viable and that we may learn a few things about the introvertive universe of writers in residence. Below are a sampling of recent communiques into the cyberspace void. Drop in at

http://twitter.com/StallingsJim

and read the latest.

Here on the Weblog we’ll continue to post other works-in-progress & literary commentary.

JS

Samples:

 

At Witt’s Inn Island Retreat, literary writers clean communal bathrm; news fr NYC: vampire novel earns 6-fig advance. Gnashing of eye teeth.

Male residents of Witt’s Inn artist retreat think Al Gore’s breakup aftr 40 yrs of marriage is only way to reclaim unsown oats. Go Al!

At Witt’s Inn female residents argue Peace Prize went to Al Gore’s head & drained his tiny bit of Jack Daniel charm & thus estranging Tipper

At Witt’s Inn Island Retreat when the fog lifted & the sun emerged, writers knew the island was all too real w/ absurd real estate prices.

At Witt’s Inn on foggy Monkfish Island, rumors started w/ resident writers that the “island” was really a boat & they were being shanghaied.

On Monkfish Island at Witt’s Inn for Writers & Artists, guests sit in small rooms & listen to rain tapping a hideous message fr the Gulf.

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Filed under American popular culture, best thought, erotica, fiction, first thought, flash fiction, flash poetry, literature, literature and movies, poetry, prose poetry, troubled people, works in progress

Poem: “My Old Friend”, fr. Notebooks 2003, Jim Stallings

My old friend

Lover playmate

Joy person

We skated

On the frozen canals

And drank libations

At parties on the shore

We hugged

We kissed

We united

Till your boat

Rock solid

In ice tied

We entered

The cozy warmth

Of naked embraces

Under your covers

Kept secure in arms

Loving smile

Tender laughter

Nights passed

In spring thaw

Freed from ice

We bade loving farewell

A kiss & a ring.

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Poem: “The Zombies Pounded”, fr. flash poetry notebooks, Jim Stallings

The zombies pounded

At the doors

Pressed ugly faces

To double pane windows

They stripped naked

Humping rain spouts

Splashing in the bird bath

They ate the arbor vitae

Like tossed salad

Poked sticks up their asses

And raced about the lawn

The police fired

Rubber bullets

Canisters of tear-gas

Brown outs of stun guns

And still the zombies

Cavorted about our American Dream

Our lovely suburban bungalow

Flinging themselves insanely

Against plastic siding

And air conditioners

Chewing off chunks of

Of  mid-size SUVs

Like just so much hard candy.

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Poem: “So Cold Brains Cracked”, fr. notebooks, Jim Stallings

So cold brains cracked

Noses stuffed with cotton

Knees corroded with oxides

Backs frozen in Velcro

Feet stiff like brackets

An assurance hung like wires

Wrapped to nails in ceilings

The cluttering mess a puzzle

Of blocks & fragments of cloth

Awaiting an electric current

And a copper spark

Like fire from the Heavens

To activate this puppet

In its weird dance

Of simulated life

A shoe worn & sad

Flying toward the audience.

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