Author: Chase Dimock

Chase Dimock teaches Literature and Writing at College of the Canyons. He is the Managing Editor of As It Ought To Be Magazine.

Wesley Scott McMasters: “Bathtub Madonna Washes” 

Posted on by Chase Dimock

.

.

.

 

Bathtub Madonna Washes

her face with holy water 
from the spigot  

blessed because her hands
lift the water to her face  

her hands which 
stirred soup for her son  

chicken and stars
(the stars taste better) 

hands which wiped down the table
to make room for coloring books 

hands which delivered soup two doors down
for a sister lost to breast cancer  

hands which have always looked
as though they belong to someone much older 

her hands which now begin to 
ache at the joints in the morning 

her hands which have a hard time
coming together in the mornings 

to pray for her son and her mother
to ask why she is so sad at night

.

.

About the Author: Wesley Scott McMasters writes, teaches, and lives in east Tennessee just within sight of the Great Smoky Mountains with his dog, Poet (who came with the name, he swears). 

.

Image Credit: Jack Delano “Field of beans on the farm of Gaetano Simone, Italian FSA (Farm Security Administration) client. Westville, Connecticut. Don’t know what the bathtub is for” (1940) Public Domain, The Library of Congress

 

 

Poetry Soundbite: A Reading and Interview with Kory Wells

Posted on by Chase Dimock

.

.

Welcome to AIOTB Magazine’s third Poetry Soundbite, an on-going series of poetry readings and interviews. For this edition, we welcome Kory Wells, the author of Sugar Fix, poetry from Terrapin Books. A former software developer now focused on her longtime side gig in creative writing, Kory nurtures connection and community through her advocacy for the arts, democracy, afternoon naps, and other good causes. A recent two-term poet laureate of Murfreesboro, Tennessee, she is founder and manager of a reading and open mic series and a mentor with the low-residency program MTSU Write. Kory’s poetry has been featured on The Slowdown podcast by former U.S. poet laureate Tracy K. Smith, and her writing appears in James Dickey Review, Ruminate, Stirring, The Southern Poetry Anthology, and elsewhere. korywells.com

 

Below the video, you can find links to some of the poems on AIOTB Magazine

.

.

The Assistant Marshal Makes an Error in Judgement

When the Watched Pot Boils

Untold Story

Max Heinegg: “Service”

Posted on by Chase Dimock

.

.

.

Service 

He’d lifted crystal kernel husks, my malt-
mill’s sweet dust. By night, he must have
heard my antsy steps & fled
the basement’s leaky sink, his fountain.

The fridge’s back a flat, our wires a file
for his teeth. Gifted intermittence,
the current no deterrence.
Worse, his shit ubiquitous.

He brought friends; I bought poison.

We passed a season’s silence, until he fell
unseen—his scent revenged.

He’d wintered in our drafts, heard the girls’
laughter from the crawl space, eking
near our surfeit. Had he lazed
by the furnace in the catless calm, or
fretted each moment, an unnerved squatter?

Typing, my long teeth grind to keep my mind
safe from the point. I’ll speak for him:
the peaceful creatures especially have enemies.

.

.

About the Author: Max Heinegg’s poems have appeared in Thrush, The Cortland Review, Nimrod, Columbia Poetry Review, and Tar River Poetry. He lives and teaches English in Medford, MA, and is also a singer-songwriter (whose records can be heard at www.maxheinegg.com) and the co-founder and brewmaster of Medford Brewing Company.

.

More by Max Heinegg:

Open Letter to Ezra Beeman

.

Image Credit: Herman Bencke “Two dogs chasing mouse through open case of champagne” (1878) Public Domain, The Library of Congress

Corey D. Cook: “Resurrecting Roadkill”

Posted on by Chase Dimock

.

.

Resurrecting Roadkill

The young fox
is on its side,
just off the road,
body intact,
coat pristine,
no evidence
of trauma,
could be resting
on the sun-warmed
shoulder,
the flame
of its tail
undiminished,
leaping up
with every gust
of wind,
each passing car.

The portly racoon
straddles
the centerline,
laid out
on its back,
front legs bent
at the elbow,
paws resting
above hips,
chin raised,
assuming
a superhero’s pose,
pool of blood
above its head
an opulent cape.

.

.

About the Author: Corey D. Cook’s sixth chapbook, Junk Drawer, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. His poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Akitsu Quarterly, the Aurorean, Brevities, Cold Moon Journal, Muddy River Poetry Review, and Nixes Mate Review. Corey works at a hospital in New Hampshire and lives in Vermont.

.

Image Credit: Catalogue North American mammals with drawings and proof of plates [1856?] Image Courtesy of the Biodiversity Heritage Library biodiversitylibrary.org/page/55581032

Jenna K Funkhouser: “Persephone”

Posted on by Chase Dimock

.

.

Persephone

and what now / shall I write?

the trees armor against obsession / they are lucid / never
drink anything but the rain / and when the rain sings
to them / in their beds / they call it god /

oh when you came / in a hail of arrows
and leaves / and the wild deer / that night lightning
reversed / swallows went north / fig trees forgot
to worship / the sun /

there were Aprils / shouting your name.

.

About the Author: Jenna K Funkhouser is an author and nonprofit communicator living in Portland, Oregon. Her poetry has recently been published by the Oregon Poetry Association, Write Around Portland, and the Catholic Poetry Room, among others; her first book of poetry, Pilgrims I Have Been, was released in October 2020.

.

Image Credit: Digitally enhanced image from Flore médicale Paris :Imprimerie de C.L.F. Panckoucke,1833-1835. Public Domain Image courtesy of the Biodiversity Heritage Library. Creative Commons License 2.0.

Dan Overgaard : “Donations”

Posted on by Chase Dimock

.

.

Donations

           for Huan

I’m thinking, as I bag these for Goodwill:

Four sport coats, hardly worn. I never quite
achieved the habitude of wearing them.
As coats they never kept me warm or cool.
They always made me want to shuck them off
as soon as they were on. I couldn’t sit
without some bunching, or some extra flap
that needed constant tending while I talked.
As costumes—I could never do the strut
with quite the right mix of insouciance
and casual, confident authority.
Perhaps my years in other uniforms
had cooked me too far in to act in these.
So, here you go—good luck with them—I hope
the sleeves will let you reach the things you need.

Twenty-some ties. I’m saving my favorites
for—who knows?—statistically, some funerals are
more likely now than weddings, but we’ll see.
The latest science says I could have used
the oxygen their knots had throttled up,
which makes me wonder—but it’s too late now.
Like any other homeless thoroughbreds,
they have the memories of their days of fame—
the compliments they gathered, dancing home.
They all believe they might have one more race,
and want to prove it if you’ll bet on them.

Eleven stalwart shirts. They’re lightly worn
but ready to stand up with dignity,
and should convey the buttoned competence
to nail a clause with some authority
or wrap a deal and walk it through today.
The sleeves are ready to be rolled again.

I list these on the form, but hesitate
to estimate their worth. I wish I could
include the lessons that I learned in them.

Baggy from sitting, squirming marathons,
my trousers feel too worn to be of use.

.

.

About the Author: Dan Overgaard was born and raised in Thailand. He attended Westmont College, dropped out, moved to Seattle, became a transit operator, then managed transit technology projects and programs. He’s now retired and catching up on reading. His poems have appeared in Shark Reef, Willawaw Journal, As It Ought To Be Magazine, Glass Poetry: Poets Resist, The High Window, Canary Lit Mag, Shot Glass Journal, Allegro Poetry, Triggerfish Critical Review and other journals. Read more at: danovergaard.com.

.

More by Dan Overgaard:

Drifting Off

.

Image Credit: “Men’s fashions, 1896” from The Library of Congress

Steve Brisendine: “Working Out a Splinter at Three O’clock on Good Friday Afternoon”

Posted on by Chase Dimock

.

service-pnp-fsa-8d36000-8d36000-8d36040v

.

.

Working Out a Splinter at Three O’clock on Good Friday Afternoon

You can’t go easy, get the big bits out
and call it good –

not if you want it all gone,
not if it’s buried, broken off
deep as the things that prick
at your dreams
when you sleep all the way through Saturday.

You have to keep at it until it all runs clear,
like there’s water in the blood.

Then it’s clean.

Then it’s finished.

There will be a scar.

.

.

About the Author: Steve Brisendine is a writer, poet, occasional artist and recovering journalist living in Mission, Kansas. His poetry appears in the third and most recent volume of the 365 Days Poets anthology and in The Rye Whiskey Review. His first collection of poems, The Words We Do Not Have, is due out in spring 2021 from Spartan Press.

.

Image Credit: Fritz Henle “Wood pile at the Orton farm, Marshfield, Vermont” (1942) The Library of Congress

Poetry Soundbite: A Reading and Interview with Bunkong Tuon

Posted on by Chase Dimock

 

 

Welcome to AIOTB Magazine’s second Poetry Soundbite, an on-going series of poetry readings and interviews. For this edition, we welcome Bunkong Tuon, a Cambodian-American writer and critic. He is the author of Gruel, And So I Was Blessed (both published by NYQ Books), The Doctor Will Fix It (Shabda Press), and Dead Tongue (a chapbook with Joanna C. Valente, Yes Poetry). He teaches at Union College, in Schenectady, NY. He tweets @BunkongTuon

Below the video, you can find links to the poems from Tuon’s reading.

 

 

From Bunkong Tuon’s reading:

“Our Neighborhood in Revere, MA”

“Snow Day”

“Tightrope Dancer”

“Women’s March in Albany”

“My Mother on Her Deathbed”

Frank Gallimore: “The Shape of My Name”

Posted on by Chase Dimock

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author: Frank Gallimore is the creative director of marketing for ZVRS and Purple Communications, a telecommunications company for the deaf and hard of hearing. He also holds an MFA in poetry from Johns Hopkins University and paints in his spare time. A sampling of his art and poetry can be found at frankgallimore.com.  His poetry has appeared in Slate, Harvard Review Online, Unsplendid, Cold Mountain Review, and was featured on Verse Daily.

 

Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Grover Beach Dunes” (2020)

Howie Good: “The View from Here”

Posted on by Chase Dimock

 

 

 

The View from Here

I’m dusting the indoor plants when the doorbell rings. It’s you, and you’re bleeding from an ear. “What happened to your ear?” I ask. You touch it. Your fingers come away with blood. “Steely Dan on the headphones,” you say. I don’t move, don’t even nod. Now that an estimated 150 species go extinct every day, I try not to rush through my days. And if, as sometimes happens, it feels like everything is speeding up, I’ll lie down on the floor and stare at the ceiling or out the window, my view a small thing but my own.

 

 

 

About the Author: Howie Good’s latest poetry collection, Gunmetal Sky, is due in February from Thirty West Publishing

 

More By Howie Good:

The Third Reich of Dreams

Reason to Believe

People Get Ready

 

Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Parking Lot Prism” (2021)