Where do people go to read words these days?

Where do people go to read words these days?

You know the ones that other people have carefully chosen and crafted into meaningful ideas. Especially those collections of words with intentional line breaks. 

It feels like I am simultaneously inundated with options yet none at all. Individual voices and even small curated collections of voices are out there yet cutting through the thrush to find them is overwhelming. What are the literary movements of the 2020s? Where are the creative hot spots. Where are ideas exchanged?  

How do I find them? How do I join?

Image

Surrender :: reprinted in Quail Bell

 

Surrender
This is the first
    ride home
      I ever enjoyed.
                We leave
over the George Washington Bridge
              drive through darkness
                                       surrounded            by lights
   the bridge    :    the city
             in the rearview mirror
he stares    through    the windshield
            his hair hangs in his eyes
  I   push   :   play
            Cheap Trick :   I Want You to Want Me
sit Indian-style
             back against the passenger door
        eyes closed
                       my hair thrashing        in the wind.

Halloween :: Uppagus

Uppagus Halloween

Listen :: The Misfits :: Halloween

Read over at Uppagus

HALLOWEEN

PUBLISHED :: UPPAGUS :: SEPTEMBER 2017

 

Act I

Cowboys : clowns : cats :
zombies : mummies : vampires
veiled in gashes :
cuts : contusions :
black eyes : dried blood
all stand outside Metro,
waiting for Bedford’s set.

We walk through the cafe
give hugs and high-fives
as we     wedge
through    the    crowd.

In a short skirt and halo of pipe cleaners,
Rianna calls herself an angel.
Nice costume, cheater, I laugh as I hug her.

Guess who?
Calloused hands cover my eyes
Dave, hey, I turn around,
give him a hug,
       Where is your costume? Why
 aren’t you ever any fun? I say.
                    I’m here to see you, isn’t that enough?
                  I could be out shredding with my friends. 
I lean into him, smell the faint scent of soap
under the layers of sweat — shove my hand into his
back pocket, kiss his neck, Always have to be
                 a hard ass, huh? I pull away.
Can I come over later? He says.

Act II

The mass of schoolgirls : pirates : devils
: packs of robots and spacemen :
and even Charlie Chaplin laugh : shout :
sway to the rhythm
the energy in the air.
Arms swing   :   bodies slam
into   arms   :   bodies
adrenaline   :   pleasure
unrestrained
slam               dance
climb on stage   :   grab the mic
scream   :   dive
into the pit   :   heels smash
shoulders  :   bruises become
trophies
before the set is over.
The humid air  :
thick   :   breath   :   sweat.
I scream along   :   every song
move   :   the pulse      of the crowd
hand above my head   :
throb   :   along   :   with the room
hit   :   air   :   on the hard beats
I stumble   :   drenched bodies
crash into me.

Act III

Voices hoarse,
costumes soaked,
makeup melted,
morph between
who we were
and who we will be
tomorrow.