jmacsteph

writer

[jmacsteph]

Gratitude to Impostor Lit for publishing my poem “Poem notes on the painting The Age of Noise, by Robert Cocke, Or, Monsters on the Sidelines.” It came out in their December issue that focused on ekphrastic poetry. I was really inspired by this painting that was part of a small but special surrealism show at @cr_museum_of_art last spring! Showed up there on a chilly, rainy day with @knbrkr0 and bummed around. Pretty great. Don’t miss Write at the Stanley @uistanleymuseum which is coming up Sunday, 1/22 at 3 pm. Come write with us!@iowacitypoetry #poetry #poetrycommunity #iowacity #art #ekphrasticpoetry #ekphrasis #writing #writingcommunity #joinus #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig #artwork #inspiration #becreative #becreativeeveryday #museums #museumwriting #prompts #talkaboutit #poetryprompts #surrealist #color #paintings #write #iowacitypoetry #writeon #writingprompts #allarewelcome https://www.instagram.com/p/CnZwTORO2tr/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jmacsteph]

Thanks to Imposter Journal for publishing my poem inspired by this painting “the Age of Noise,” painted by Robert Cocke which was on view at the Cedar Rapids Museum of Art recently.

https://www.impostorlit.com/vol-2-issue-3

[jmacsteph]

Oct 31: The Tyrant Smells Decay

 Stop seeking a reality

 Neither sound nor trace

 Relieve empty scavengers

 Of chemical spills and

 Luxury boats

 The sharks have nothing left to chew

 This ferry is optimistic

 When the world ends

 You’ll get there anyway

 Hands, fingers, in a video game

 Of delusional fuckers

 And farmers markets

 A terrible Frankenstein

 A real piece of living art

 Roll and pitch master

 You’ll be happy

 Building a terrible thing

  Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 444-472.

[jmacsteph]

Oct 30: rolling down the mud smeared floor boards

Peer into the darkness

 Used to be a deeper human

 Discuss a warm buzz and Adam rising

 without wiring in the center

 Lunge against losing your mind

 A faster centered female

 In the red mist

 Crash and tilt

 Lose a throat

 Whats broken cannot be

 Marched to the slaughter.

  Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 430-442.

[jmacsteph]

Oct 29: A Child’s Toy

 Slip behind a natural look / get in and buck / you pretty crash / little my heart / offended fucked up road show / get rough and survive / threaten a rupture from the inside out / remember I was Born in the warm hot dark / that’s not the crash I’m looking for / hungry and reach / shoulder and back / the drums made me alone / a child’s toy

 Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 410-420.

[jmacsteph]

Oct 28: The Tyrant Gives a Twisted Smile

 Come in and interrogate

 Tell me how you really feel

 Blank faced wallpaper

 Is better than you

 Use names like organisms

 Purely the way you trick and slime

 You difficult darling

 Remember names and anniversaries

 Flat line birthdays

 For years you’ve been a bad species

 Convince me you are not

 Just a piece of hot and cold

 slush

 Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 399-405.

[jmacsteph]

Oct 27: two monsters

Do you dream of monsters

 stripped of power

 wanting father figures

 either unsure or angry

 these are two different beasts

 One can endure without the other

 It easier to control something

 When you think it belongs

 to you

 to bleed out

 That would be over too fast

 Cover the rest of your life

 up with sound bites

 And go to war

 Slice my girl open

  Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 370-386..

[jmacsteph]

Oct 26: This is All Great and Blah Blah Blah

 Run a hand a long a typewriter

 Litter the lawn with fangs

 I don’t recognize your scholarly body

 Stare back at me

 Let’s be hungry and hopeful

 To all of our missing girlfriends

 Shred the pinatas

 One bellwether and a get the fuck out of here

 and we all have assault rifles

 A workman’s sticky shoulders

 cut corporate and candy coated

 abandons us

 in the national chocolate arena

 Nail the plywood and peppermint

 together

 Can I trouble you for a sugar?

 and whimsy descent into children’s

 literature

  Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 270-280.

[jmacsteph]

Oct 25: The Window’s Light

 Suburbia in the 80s

 Knew it had power

 Turn on a semblance of

 Normalcy

 Tears are no longer

 An option

 Hands in shambles

 Sleepwalking through a door

 all the children up and

 Neighborhoods are moans

 Like it and you’ll be the first to go

 Knocked into crown moldings

 And dark picture frames

 Her frantically working jaws

 Drag my humanity  

 From the window’s light

   Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 263-268.

[jmacsteph]

Oct 24: Let me Tell You About it

 your innocent little question

 I knew you’d come along

 get out of your own way

 I don’t want to be cut by experience

 call me pet

 but I’d kill you

 teach me new words

 you momma’s boy

 I’ll ask our mutual

 creator about my soul

 all I need is to put

 the most useful

 weapon

 in the hands of a child

  Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 188-207.

[jmacsteph]

Oct 23: Clean

 the bubbles melted / I saw his face / swallowed hard / the wet splattering sounds / your my best girl / but a murderous savior pretends with me / works long to get me / if I’m his best girl / if he can’t save me he’ll die / try to clean up / clean out the devil / ever since there was soap and water / you can’t be clean all the time

  Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 175-187.

[jmacsteph]

Oct 22: Sally Thinks About It

 I didn’t remember how to hold

 myself I was not hungry

 I ran marathons

 to look behind the distance

 the plastic sheets

 the dance

 I wasn’t good enough

 to be woke

 a weakness in my hands

 how could I reach myself

 I ran

 I thought

 what else could I do

 I served

 I was cheap

 I was never going

to stop myself

 from looking for myself

 in little private rooms

   Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 168-174.

[jmacsteph]

Oct 21: The Tyrant Refers to Girls as Subjects

 closed eyes / better than staring at the ceiling / Subject / is confused / Subject / stands on a razor / fingertips drub against computer / Subject calls herself / what? / Subject / wants to be untied / the cool male voice / wind up ripped / Subject / is defensive / Subject discovered her little condition / Subject / won’t help me / yet

 Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 166-167.

[jmacsteph]

Oct 20th:  The Tyrant Makes a Discovery

 thrown back into the vent

pick up the cleaver

 press my ear against the door

hand sliding against the wall

 posters on the wall

fish tank on the floor

 a teenage girls room

tight skin across a skull

 naked male or female

I don’t know

 locked in this room

sorry this happened to you

  Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 162-163.

[jmacsteph]

Oct 19:  The Tyrant Meets Sally

 Hey Hey Hey!

 An eagerness prayer

 that seemed important

 behind me  / in front of me

 come get me

 call me Beverly or Minnie

 a chimera vision

 a feather sticking out

 my fingers find no purchase

 hot warm and dark

 dream memory adrift

 redness and blackness

 touch me and remember

 hard and sharp

 exist for me

 want to rub against each other

 whimper and screw

 no love / no kisses

 as with the gurney – dry and strapped

 I realized I am a patented fake

 a misfired tranquilizer dart

 Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 155-159.

[jmacsteph]

Oct 18th: The Tyrant Watches the Heroes Struggle

 hurt / connect / bodies try to understand / integrate and fall / consult instructions / to move against a waist / for brief seconds we are all good / we grasp / with terrible purpose / then we close again / like door handles / being people / duck / shift / pretend / strange to stay close / don’t go my darling

  Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 146-149.

[jmacsteph]

Oct 17th: The Tyrant Uses His Brain

   He wanted a silly God

my darling ones

 Not science

never look back

 take a breath

these ancient places

 won’t exist

broken doors

 the intent was

that we’d never think

 never create anything

sit idle

 be a waste

until death

 but if God

exists

 he’s a scientist

 imagine that.

   Grant, Mira. Symbiont. New York. Orbit, 2014. Print. Pages 123-124.