Ray Succre
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The important words are underlined by Maurice Oliver
Did I ever tell you about the time oil from/ a leaky canister seeped into my thoughts/ then expressed its dissatisfaction with my/ sexual life.
Nonesuch Dreams and Wills by Ray Succre
Her discovery of him will also be gradual/ [X=X+1]; she does not startle anymore./ She has been alive [cavity] before.
He: How we gonna do it?
She: Don’t ask me, you’re the one with the gun
He: Can’t use the gun.
She: Why?
He: Never bought any bullets...visual art centered around one dietary staple
Sometimes Suicidal by Aimee DeLong
Sometimes a suicidal person fixes her hair. Sometimes she looks in the mirror to smooth it. Sometimes she goes four days without washing it.
Last Night at Southport by Justin Hyde
tell her i'm a butterfly
with sixteen wings
beating in
succinct
anarchy.Categorical Imperatives by Maurice Oliver
Try to imagine a small room where the only/ furniture is a TV. The TV has a hundred/ channels and two sets of memories.
1. A canoe full of moose meat
2. Beerwigs
3. The Great Vodka Massacre
4. The Bootlegger & the Professor
5. Puke-O-GramVisual Art by Claudio Parentela
I saw a handful of dead cockroaches/ on the floor this morning./ You must have filled the house/ with your endless litany of dammits’ and ‘bullshits’/ while chasing them with last week’s paper/ you borrowed next door for the purpose.
i get stuck thinkin' of words/ and meanings of you and of him/ the smell of leaf/ on dirt
Contagion necessaries: sensorial numb by Kenneth Mulvey
reach into pocket/ for a light/ to find I pissed/ myself again
Pamela in the Spring by James DilworthI can't talk in the human way, I tried to learn without success. I could only watch her day after day, as the seasons began to change and the world grew colder.
The lost art of visualization by Andy Riverbed
Now that I think about it;/ I’ve realized I don’t like poetry/ and I don’t like literature; I/ hate movies and music is nauseating;/ my job is a boring mind-/ numb.
A short movie
Pass-downs
If rearing is power,
and raising, usurpation,
if [what color am I?],
if [my people any people],
if I am so by way of material,
then rearing is copy,
and raising, the small nudge
against some anchored seat.
Nonesuch Dreams and Wills
The depth of commitment an inexperienced man
can one day offer, is related frank, and strong
to the level of rejection—A radioactive
transuranic element synthesized
by bombarding curium with carbon ions;
7 isotopes are known placed before him
[foetal] in a love's year.
He startles dirty from there and persists
[persist(don’t-mention)length2]
at long last reaching her.
He seems discovered.
Her discovery of him will also be gradual
[X=X+1]; she does not startle anymore.
She has been alive [cavity] before.
Though the coals of a limping man
burn in even, patient durations,
their resolution [cecity] is absolute.
Pull You Go Home
Psyche on the River Remembers Cupid.
Psyche:
No more alarms twist high, ambulation
of every part, invigora.
While we should ring, I still enjoy his body
into pull-you-go-home.
The spine sound becomes his,
seven calls from a time in hell,
"You care." he says, to his feet, the sky with pen.
His moratorium begins only for some future
I've heard as inexpensive sprigs of our voices
dimmed.
Cupid:
The aqueous prints impermanent, too much.
Her. Whitman Yeats Frost Hardy.
She is the cranky day and sad mockery
in a black briar strand running it, her.
She was partied with willickers and thickly spits
a granite plain. This the windows.
Get them.
"Fine." she says to me,
breath-scent to the plate.
"That moron." she says. It’s me?
She has the amative universe, pleading as I reel,
offset and no one,
"Are we to try our pictures choked in the haste,
now that you are impassable?" she asks me.
Psyche:
But pear-seed, judicial eyes,
face like a bowl in a tree.
I wipe the biggest yet to break.
Then speak that I have no ground, how pricked
I’ve become, and the machines, walking, ring.
Grasp, they shriveled, the eaves crowd down at me,
pull-you-go-home,
rise on our fistfight, twice, twist, wired together—
Cupid:
Those birds,
"You can't catch them," she states to me.
Collision of substances, thirty-six images in the antic
of catching birds, a leaf from tall compliments:
Commitment: What a festive
cutout. She woke me with drips of wax
and I sent her incredibly off.
Psyche:
Hard dentures clap, most days,
boring rise on an odor...
aged. Hallucinating my ugly word,
flesh in the purple sheen, alone near
my river, I have the memory still:
He grabs crotch-wise the world,
and up his flowers stand, and this river
tasting eye explosions
in my remembered dementia—
I was not for handsome men, but
"Do it." he said to me,
and within could grasp me; I've never
gotten to see frivolity spun from the man,
pull-you-go-home, and I saw him wake
beneath, leaving no more passive reason
to greet me another day.
093 was Outbound 061
FIRST SWING!
November lonely, OUT OF EL PASO - 093, presidential chair
in the rhyme and scansion,
O/O/OO/O/OO/OO/O//,
line. For our voices,
and a body adjusted: //////
The following day, revised, how like him, 093, I'd piss on
McPherson Street.
O/OO/OO/O/O/O///O//
Author's expression in the underlying reasoning
behind the number of his senses, yet laid prone to
leave his coffee, becoming 061.
She was some page to the way of it. She said, in the
tablature by an exponential madness on a bridge
contained an overpass the rise and there,
will try = largest one. They are no books, terminal one
printed in "SUCCRE MONTHLY' OUT OF
EASTERN KENTUCKY UNIVERSITY —
POEM: A Little Girl Came Over" to 093.
OO////O/O//O/
But now a sadly sapped crest over
never ever back from 061.
No larger rhythms utilized in my old poet.
If authored by historic grandmothers, will be in the
reason. I found the rhyme is dimeter, I heave off the
constraint of each, my 061-ness,
Worst of a starkness, our lives take blood.
ONE POEM @ 'SUCCRE MONTHLY' OUT OF
CHENNAI, and tidy,
and
ONE-SIX POEMS ACCEPTED 'SUCCRE MONTHLY' OUT OF
BOULDER CITY , how we have been introduced in a
poem accepted at Abbey, really upset because I'd just
been given it returned the Blackbird return, but we
introduce the line exactly, would give to write a
poem usually consists of the foundation of use your
Nintendo game, North Carolina , 093.
At Abbey, and unfortunately for Fugue 31 the line is
lifted a system of North Bend, as there you find oneself, the
fence what shows me. Therefore, and in arms in 'ART
TIMES’:
Remember when this notation and no other shoes as per schedule, cacophonic voice will say, the following illustration of 093:
No technical one was at the line. For our thoughts, and the notation and all the measure Space. Symmetry, only two meters, and three syllables:
Was some service had just about me, revised,
OO/, an accent followed by common multiple in
the second voice will constitute the Meade St. Diner:
O//O/O/OO//O//OO//OO/OO/O//OO/O///
Would not bear
sugary, and last sleep to write a single exact line
as fancy. Also ushers the vow and back in song to
the joy in the author's Note 79.
ONE POEM ACCEPTED @ 'SUCCRE MONTHLY' OUT OF
SALZBURG ,
These voices, tetrameter 9 feet
ACCEPTED @ 'SUCCRE MONTHLY' OUT OF EL PASO ,
Built from the fugue. In love and of it
would have done with the third stanza, will be
made by wetted wing, emotive urgings.
In for country with him, Illinois Street 093,
along the meter compensates for his thumb
like a portion of the second voice reaches
the foundation of it among
O,
his own devising, and full merit bound back,
seventh through eleventh stanzas, and read left back.
Red fruits don't like his taste, the center of the anapest
will be shown. O. You. 093 into 061. Though the
absolute straight line can still have old friends.
Biography
Ray Succre currently lives on the southern Oregon coast with his wife and baby son. He has been published in Laika, BlazeVOX, and Pank, as well as in numerous others across as many countries. He tries hard.For inquiry, publication history, and information, visit me online: http://raysuccre.blogspot.com
