#rob carney

[mythologyofblue]

If Wolves Lope into Your Dreams,

         they’re a sign that something’s coming, a message you need to be still inside to hear.

And it won’t be a woman’s name,        though some have names like music.

And it won’t be a woman’s body,        though some are shaped like music. No,

they’ll draw a wide circle around your disquiet        and howl . . . the opposite of avenues,

the opposite of the neighbors’ backyard dog        barking in time with your heartbeat….

Right now a wolf is dreaming too,        and it isn’t dreaming of people.

Behind its eyes, it’s chasing the mountains,        wanting to tear the Earth from its hold on the moon.

-Rob Carney

[seaanimalonland]

Every Place I’ve Ever Lived Is Gone | Rob Carney

pecan groves outside of Lafayette, the pine woods north of Spokane,

the field by my house where the snow piled deep, where a snow owl passed so silently and low

it changed my idea of ​​ghosts - now they're stores,

and neighborhoods named after trees, and spillover parking for a church,

and maybe the choir sings hymns so beautifully it's fine; I'll call it the future, agree that it's bright.

But west of Washtucna, Washington, the highway stretches through the dark ...

miles of no-place, of-in-between, that haven’t disappeared.

Freight trucks are too few to bother me much, and wind off the river cools the hood down.

I can stop on the shoulder and sit there still while stars fill every inch of night.

Rob Carney , "Every Place I Have Ever Lived Is Gone:" 88 Maps (Lost Horse Press, 2016)

via memorylandscape

[mythologyofblue]

Eagle Ridge, Eagle Crest, Eagle View

         Away from the city, there are still some fields tucked behind houses on the outskirts,

houses a bit like museums        since a few have barns and the rare noise of roosters.

Dump trucks are busy nearby, churning dust clouds,        and shovel-headed cranes—each great bite of dirt

another inch of road,          another new customer.

Meanwhile, the wind is busy with its own work,        bending the trees back like dancers,

and nine crows ride on the updraft in a line.        I’m not a pioneer either, but I can read this weather:

It won’t be long before these pastures        are a memory,

and somewhere on one of these remnant acres,        somebody’s spring calf is dead.

-Rob Carney

[missedstations]

"We Paint the Rocks Blue" - Rob Carney

so they look less like tombstones. So the riverbeds—dry now,

just paths for deer to walk— seem less like ghosts.

In our pockets: all the insults we carry, insults we place on the flat slab under the falls,

or what used to be the falls when snow still fell and March became a watersong of melting.

For instance, keys to whatever dispossessions.

Or the envelope declaring, "Final Notice," those red words

fading in the sun now, held in place with stones.

A lapel pin—meaningless— "To commemorate 25 years of service."

And a necklace improvised from fishing line, sim cards, and rings…

we leave our relics here, and coins the crows might find a reason for,

and maybe the weight feels lighter now,

maybe there's room for the wind to fit somewhere.

It used to usher clouds overhead, and sometimes a few of them would open.

First, birds arriving and lining up on branches. Then the rain.

[tlhopkinson]

NO FEE Contest & Submission call & editor interview--Sonic Boom, DEADLINES: June 25 & July 1, 2016

NO FEE Contest & Submission call & editor interview–Sonic Boom, DEADLINES: June 25 & July 1, 2016

Sonic Boom is a literary & arts journal seeking both solicited and unsolicited experimental poetry, flash fiction, and visual art submissions tri-annually. They “hope to integrate multifarious genres of literature and artwork including Japanese short-forms of poetry, avant-garde, conceptual, and postmodern works of culture and art.” The issues come in free downloadable PDFs with beautiful…

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[tlhopkinson]

"Letter to America" by Rob Carney, guest blog post on Terrain.org + writing prompt

“Letter to America” by Rob Carney, guest blog post on Terrain.org + writing prompt

Rob Carney presents his readers with a poem entitled “Poetic Justice” to reflect on the recent political environment in his November blog post for his series Old Roads, New Stories: A Blog Series on Terrain.org. This blog post includes an audio recording of Carney performing this politics-meets-history-meets-geography-meets-myth poem. I’ve always been intrigued with the way Carney weaves myths…

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[tlhopkinson]

Poetry prompts that inspire + submission call--Terrain.org, DEADLINE: May 30, 2016

Poetry prompts that inspire + submission call–Terrain.org, DEADLINE: May 30, 2016

I may be a bit biased (because I’ve sat in on his classes and enjoyed his performance poetry for years), but Rob Carney’s guest blog posts on Terrain.org are not to be missed! Each post is a story, a poem, and will give you a little insight to his writing process. You can view all his blog posts here.

Most recently, in Electrical Engineeringhe writes about the Wasatch Front–the weather, the…

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[lunchboxpoems]

EVERY PLACE I’VE EVER LIVED IS GONE:

pecan groves outside of Lafayette, the pine woods north of Spokane,

the field by my house where the snow piled deep, where a snow owl passed so silently and low

it changed my idea of ghosts— now they're stores,

and neighborhoods named after trees, and spillover parking for a church,

and maybe the choir sings hymns so beautifully it's fine; I'll call it the future, agree that it's bright.

But west of Washtucna, Washington, the highway stretches through the dark . . .

miles of no-place, of in-between, that haven't disappeared.

Freight trucks are too few to bother me much, and wind off the river cools the hood down.

I can stop on the shoulder and sit there still while stars fill every inch of night.

ROB CARNEY