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Poetry by
Sheila E. Murphy

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Your Shut-Up Is My Sinecure

Art by Nathaniel ParsonsI would sooner bite the window than be a member of your church.
I plant my signature where it is (wanted).
Take your sand (pail) to the garment district and persuade someone to wear ground glass.
Jazz-less fallow beast, go find a way to die.
Sell beestings to the hive, and leave my population sampled in a sphere of trust.
Remove what rust you think friction is enough to fade away.
And be replaced by malleable clay to take on human form and dry.

 

 

Hearing My Honey Valentine

Art by Nathaniel ParsonsHurt blithers in brass angles of a feathered disappearance. Mention how it feels to dazzle and retain the fumes of what is left after the shell is stained by ash. As though a film hovered granularly near the bar where heaven quite disguised is served. Percussion comes to mean mere touch. Punctuation of an unexpected note to form an undeveloped melody for a little while called small. Perspiration gestured midway between hard and soft tones is art(iculated). One gloves presence of mind to bring back what is lost. Keyboard can't compete with exhalation and the pondering long lines feel just the way blood moves inside the skin. Residing and endowed with never-to-return.

Threadbare home, as little as a gestured heart, a place, and portable, with breath again

 

 

Percussion

 

Art by Nathaniel ParsonsNeighbor's air conditioning splices dream to dream. I think about you plenty in my night heart. Now that I'm awake, I hear the indoor version of airbrush running through the rooms. Hosanna in the highest. Home across the way is almost sold. I saw a U-Haul parked across. Mist fell across car rooftops. Today's the second-to-the-last day of the year. Our mail delivered, a noticeable change in barometric pressure makes the mother nervous “as a cat” she claims, working with allies. This dwelling blessed by protocol becomes a transformation of original intent. Outrage leads to outages. Art by Nathaniel ParsonsDétente recurs, according to the store bought calendar. Watch me watch you watch me. Who guides customary outlets for what makes it fresh across the threshold? Commas lifted into light around the street lamp made us think there had been snow. Under what conditions might the cast of characters fall to worry? Whose batteries perform without replacement? Who straightens out a thing materially formed? Describe the way it looked to me. Plenty of repartee confuses normal flow of craft toward sea light. Alignment means a chore someone should master. I think I will take lessons on the flute. Serenity mars my world view with your own. Stalking in the gestured night. Informal kleptomania versus a sentence to be always young. Just tell me what I owe you. A decanting of spot-checks.

 

 

Bio G-St-Ring

Art by Nathaniel ParsonsShe gets it she
declares. I do not
loathe her.
Strictly (s)peaking,
her derangement shuttles
her around until
octagonal directives
blanch by contrast
Art by Nathaniel Parsonsher face full
of spite. She
generally resents
and in particular
cements disfigurement
of all relations.
One of the guys
she pals around
Art by Nathaniel Parsonsin thatched gentility
burns dry grasses
from the top.
To settle on
a sop. Imagine
me imagining her
imagining. A grand
faux pas, n'est-ce pas?

 

 

A Poetics

Art by Nathaniel ParsonsTh'green, green grasp of tome
Commits to grommet until
-cast comes to (the fore).
If you would only translate i(n)-
ching to a metric one could breathe.
A zone of teak (knock) proves the wood warm wormed through
invertible paralysis.
Silhouetted by pale reeds
and altogether known as unexpected
situated in between the points of tolerance and reach.

 

divider

Sheila E. MurphySheila E. Murphy's has been writing most of her adult life, where she has lived in Phoenix, Arizona. Trained as a flutist, Murphy made a turn in the road and consciously picked up a pen and sought to make music in text. Her visio-textual poetry both solo and with others appears widely. Most recent published books include: Reverse Haibun. Chalkeditions. 2009. Circumsanct. Chalkeditions. 2009. Quaternity (with Scott Glassman). Otoliths Press. 2009. how to spell the sound of everything (with mIEKAL aND). Xerox Sutra Editions. 2009.

 

Nathaniel Parsons, artist. "Finding stories from the headlines, front page back page, personal narratives, dreams and the artist’s connection to nature. I attempt to find ways of representing how meaning is made. Situations where the image or object is found in a process of conversation with a viewer or visitor. A stripping away of sole personal authorship allows me to focus an artwork into existing as a souvenir of a thought. Enjoy Nathaniel Parsons OAKLAND-CHAGRIN FALLS-IOWA CITY www.nathanielparsons.com. I am a Riverboy. I Miss My River."

 

Josh HinckJosh Hinck creates music under the name euphoreador and currently lives in Minneapolis but has resided in Beijing, Montreal, Las Vegas and elsewhere. In addition to music and poetry he dabbles in writing, video, painting and whatever else seems good to work on. Visit his website here, or contact him here for collaboration or for anything.

 

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