Jaye Bartell Bio: Jaye Bartell was born in Massachusetts, and has lived and worked in Asheville, NC, San Juan Island, WA, and lives currently in Buffalo, NY. Poetry has appeared in the Flim Forum Press Anthology, A Sing Economy, Capgun and Cutbank magazines, and Pig; Prose has appeared online at thisrecording.wordpress.com; and music is available under the name Oak Orchard Swamp. Poems: Personism Nana Mary can I carry the apples single ones, ripe or pale they’ll turn we’ll turn. It’s you now or not at all because it’s us! Makes a Bird Wind in a holly berry makes a bird conceal. We’d seen the other seeing one, an other. First the wind moved then holly berry moved, and a raven old leaf, shuttles in. With air stilled and all here now weather and the company in confused sociality. Neverness A seed planted by burning hands grows nothing but ash and I admit to frequent excitement, hastening to butter bread slathering instead my palm. What of it? When a child I dreamt a drove of indistinct ant-like insects surfaced from a hole in the backyard and proceeded in a line up to my room where I, small in the long grass of young comforters, cheeks ruddy bright by a column of sunlight, was lifted from the bed and shouldered by the ants, as on a stretcher. They carried me toward the hole and no one said anything they carried me into the hole I did not move to scream and knew the solemn occasion, it’s a quiet memory. If, hurriedly, I speak it’s the roots of that seed I hear dust sounds. Ah, Sam take the carried foods. eat the carried foods. canteen, burlap, prickles... me suddenly become cowboy type can grin despite there’s no cows spurs, other regalia, even a horse at all— except by a measurement inclusive of ache, the distance and span of the trip made to disperse or accept through use the lonesome ember. |
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