Magazine
Jason Baldinger: “a time capsule of dust”
Stephen Barile: “Cedar Crest Cove”
Jane-Rebecca Cannarella: “Quilted Rainbows”
Lorraine Caputo: “And That Wind Twirls”
Rick Christiansen: “Borrowed Blood”
John Dorsey: “Jerry Garcia & German Root Beer”
Howie Good: “Uketopia”
John Grey: “Flower People”
Judy Lorenzen: “Anyway”
Tim Peeler: “Untitled”
LB Sedlacek: “Art vs Life (Dream 09/19/15)”
the aforementioned skyline
neither drugs or sunglasses best
parking lot halogen in sharonville
men sleep in their cars
heads groggy groundhog
up as people pass
this cheap motel surrounded
the other motel rustles
behind the tree line
the waffle house gives way
to skyline chili, to fast food
and big box chains
without a compass
there are no bearings
just endless small towns
swallowed by a shadow city
how would I know south of here
american anarchism bloomed
how would I know
la belle riviere is a whisper trace
waffle house takes out the trash
street cats shake
out of a lilac bush
skinny and skittery
about to take over the night
there is a pound of cheddar in the plastic
to go bag of the aforementioned skyline
too lazy to head south
toward the clang
of the underground railroad
I eat in my room
with cigarettes and black mold
as a representative of wealth
I lay out a shredded trail
a dairy bar feast
a transient gift
a yellow orange supply
to sustain a brood of hungry meows
consider it an offering
a small good thing
something that may bring the rain on
while there’s still ohio to go
About the Author: Jason Baldinger is a poet and photographer from Pittsburgh, PA. He is the co-editor of Trailer Park Quarterly and co-runs The Odd-Month Reading Series. He’s penned fifteen books of poetry the newest of which include: A History of Backroads Misplaced: Selected Poems 2010-2020 (Kung Fu Treachery), American Aorta (OAC Books) and This Still Life (Kung Fu Treachery) with James Benger. His first book of photography, Lazarus, was just released. He has two ekphrastic collaborations (with poets Rebecca Schumejda and Robert Dean) forthcoming. His work has appeared across a wide variety of online sites and print journals. You can hear him read from various books on Bandcamp and on lps by The Gotobeds and Theremonster.
Image Credit: Carol M. Highsmith “Nightime view of the Cincinnati, Ohio, skyline” (2016). Public domain image courtesy of The Library of Congress
when pigs fly maybe pigs will fly take a running start down st nicolas into the wind like early sons of aviation before crashing into the monongahela maybe they'll launch from wadell avenue a doppler squeal lost in a mothball sky in this valley of work anything is possible even the great american dream stan musial could flat out hit from the back of the batters box bat sweeping across the plate ball bouncing off left field wall he hustles into second he worked off seasons a freight checker at us steel his wife set up housekeeping a few blocks from where he was born maybe the world was smaller then they were off to st louis when the inversion started smog veils, this valley nightmare gossamer sunsets halloween gas masks a weight that sits suffocating on your chest it was no surprise people started to die it was no surprise doom settled this city in smog musial collected his parents sent them to enjoy their dotage somewhere in suburban missouri he didn't come back not to sit on a jeep on thanksgiving as parades death marched from the sons of italy past the rooming houses down hills that lead down river to forbes field cardinals in traveling grays musial sends bob friend’s fastball on a right field richochet clemente fields it cleanly fires it home musial at second tips his hat as pigs fly by the valley of work gasps for breath the rich will always get richer the air may recover or kill more slowly really, it's more lottery than dream
About the Author: Jason Baldinger is a poet and photographer from Pittsburgh, PA. He’s penned fifteen books of poetry the newest of which include: A History of Backroads Misplaced: Selected Poems 2010-2020 (Kung Fu Treachery), and This Still Life (Kung Fu Treachery) with James Benger. His first book of photography, Lazarus, as well as two ekphrastic collaborations (with Rebecca Schumejda and Robert Dean) are forthcoming. His work has appeared across a wide variety of online sites and print journals. You can hear him from various books on Bandcamp and on lps by The Gotobeds and Theremonster. His etsy shop can be found under the tag la belle riviere.
Image Credit: Detroit Publishing Co “The Bleachers, Forbes Field, Pittsburgh, Pa.” Public domain image courtesy of the Library of Congress
buttermilk skeleton the moon is a ghost buttermilk skeleton rising against afternoon I cross from maryland in search of coastal waters these traditions, these miles add up still unsolvable herons fish under loblolly and cypress these waterways, these estuaries this sky darkens in gridlock I walk past the last lights of christmas a storm blows in I hear its voice in each wave eyes focus on speeding clouds funny, how we don't remember our lives before the moment everything changed years pile up as vacant memories haunted shelters reveling in abandon but if I look hard I see myself a wraith vague within the deluge crowds shout and cheer as seconds tick away fireworks open the sky a small welcome explosion we ante up once again prepare for a grand finale I pour champagne down my throat, into foam water ebbs at the edge of my boots licks sand clean all these offerings another series of prayers here's to the chaos of the universe
About the Author: Jason Baldinger is a poet and photographer from Pittsburgh, PA. He’s penned fifteen books of poetry the newest of which include: A History of Backroads Misplaced: Selected Poems 2010-2020 (Kung Fu Treachery), and This Still Life (Kung Fu Treachery) with James Benger. His first book of photography, Lazarus, as well as two ekphrastic collaborations (with Rebecca Schumejda and Robert Dean) are forthcoming. His work has appeared across a wide variety of online sites and print journals. You can hear him from various books on Bandcamp and on lps by The Gotobeds and Theremonster. His etsy shop can be found under the tag la belle riviere.
Image Credit: Peder Severin Krøyer “Skagen Beach in Moonlight” (1899) Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
this poem was written for john dorsey in the el bronco bar, richmond indiana chill as fuck across gossamer ohio through endless western sunset babe, I'm sorry it was you cancer took to the prom when friends hear you're together they freeze in existential headlights brother, I'm sorry that grief doles out shitty drunk lap dances no care if those duckets ever roost in a g string john, I promise fried chicken and all world shaking doom allows in less time than a waffle house day I'll be on the horn to gus's soon as I kill the engine in the sky high pie parking lot maplewood is an armadillo away over dinner the other night I said magic and loss I say it often, in and out of context a friend replied, with enough time served magic doesn't hold sway over the ocean of loss we worship at now I can't say I disagree except the waitress who calls me amigo like I've never left just delivered a grande margarita in the hum of three hundred easy miles and the shine of tequila I won't want to buy a camper but I have the receipt for short walk in lights between speedway and meijer lights that stretch from here as far as midwest wherever you know I'll be there soon
About the Author: Jason Baldinger is a poet and photographer from Pittsburgh, PA. He’s penned fifteen books of poetry the newest of which include: A History of Backroads Misplaced: Selected Poems 2010- 2020 (Kung Fu Treachery), and This Still Life (Kung Fu Treachery) with James Benger. His first book of photography, Lazarus, as well as two ekphrastic collaborations (with Rebecca Schumejda and Robert Dean) are forthcoming. His work has appeared across a wide variety of online sites and print journals. You can hear him from various books on Bandcamp and on lps by The Gotobeds and Theremonster. His etsy shop can be found under the tag la belle riviere.
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Image Credit: John Margolies: “Package liquor store, Cheyenne, Wyoming” (2004) Public domain image courtesy of the Library of Congress
cold water glistens we were raw souls we didn't know it sapling catalpas roam subtropical summer sidewalks desperate for a breath inside the walls of swelter there would be this electric buzz rattling in the air of our childhood bedrooms our teeth would chatter simultaneous then we would be in the streets in our shorts, our underroos the local fireman opened the plugs, the water rushed torrents along neighborhood curbs all the kids were there between parked car rapids some feet in, some ass in some attempt to swim some erode into the debris of the city these little catalpas inebriated in perfect equation cold water glistens meets summer afternoon a still life in eternity
About the Author: Jason Baldinger was recently told he looks like a cross between a lumberjack and a genie. He’s also been told he’s not from Pittsburgh but is the physical manifestation of Pittsburgh. Although unsure of either, he does love wandering the country writing poems. He’s penned fifteen books of poetry the newest of which include: The Afterlife is a Hangover (Stubborn Mule Press) and A History of Backroads Misplaced: Selected Poems 2010-2020 (Kung Fu Treachery), and This Still Life with James Benger. His work has appeared across a wide variety of print journals and online. You can hear him read his work on Bandcamp and on lps by The Gotobeds and Theremonster.
Image Credit: Angelo Rizzuto “Young boy leaning on fire hydrant” The Library of Congress (public domain)
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temporal, temporary and gone
it’s black out in bar harbor
days after a thanksgiving
prayer that was spoken
with no meaning, here it’s
offseason and sunday
few residents creak
through the vacant glaze
the early arrival of pitch black
the stars not shielded by light
I follow a fiddlehead fern
down to a trout hatchery
where generations of tourist
feasted, fifty cents for each
wild caught dream cooked
over fire, picnic benches
for the family while you wait
next month, i’ll be miles down coast
walking rehoboth beach with wine
stains and fireworks, dolle’s taffy
orange and boardwalk lights
lead me back from the mouth
of breakers, footprints already
washed away, the infinite space
stoned and stealing time again
the new year a dragon
slayed at my feet
these places, theses years
whisk by, dust in my beard
atoms along the air, no meaning
in moments anymore
it all builds to crescendo
I’ll never hear, this reality
a bubble, a vessel through
tonight, memories flood
a mad swirl of stations
some past, some present
some future, all materialize
temporal, temporary and gone
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About the Author: Jason Baldinger was recently told he looks like a cross between a lumberjack and a genie. He’s also been told he’s not from Pittsburgh, but actually is the physical manifestation of Pittsburgh. Although unsure of either, he does love wandering the country writing poems. His newest books include: A Threadbare Universe (Kung Fu Treachery Press), The Afterlife is a Hangover (Stubborn Mule Press) and A History of Backroads Misplaced: Selected Poems 2010-2020 (Kung Fu Treachery). He also has a forthcoming book with James Benger called This Still Life. His work has been widely across print journals and online. You can hear him read his work on Bandcamp and on lp’s by The Gotobeds and Theremonster.
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More Poetry by Jason Baldinger:
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Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Fiddlehead Fern” (2022)
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I remember the royal river
I remember the royal river
a bleached skeleton, bones
calloused and raw
these forever miles
the only skin left attached
vermont rain soaked halos
glow dry in cold july sunshine
I remember the royal river
mile long rutted driveways
a peninsula that breaks
into islands, black flies
tall grass and hippie
mansions lost to the grid
I shake rain tent flaps
drying out in turrets
as backgammon days
passed picking ticks
off golden retrievers
I remember the royal river
the maine granite coast
lone trees clawing
to hold the rocks along
the atlantic, ice cold showers
this gaunt face in a tide pool
I remember the royal river
tequila on the docks
fortification for a last days boogie
gather these atoms south
with notions of sacco and vanzetti
I remember the royal river
as a skeleton
with a compass
left in place
of memory
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About the Author: Jason Baldinger was recently told he looks like a cross between a lumberjack and a genie. He’s also been told he’s not from Pittsburgh, but actually is the physical manifestation of Pittsburgh. Although unsure of either, he does love wandering the country writing poems. His newest books include: A Threadbare Universe (Kung Fu Treachery Press), The Afterlife is a Hangover (Stubborn Mule Press) and A History of Backroads Misplaced: Selected Poems 2010-2020 (Kung Fu Treachery). He also has a forthcoming book with James Benger called This Still Life. His work has been widely across print journals and online. You can hear him read his work on Bandcamp and on lp’s by The Gotobeds and Theremonster.
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More Poetry by Jason Baldinger:
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Image Credit: Detroit Publishing Co. “Picnic rocks, Kennebunk River, Kennebunkport, Maine” (1890) The Library of Congress Public Domain.
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As It Ought To Be Magazine is proud to announce our nominees for the Pushcart Prize.
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Jason Baldinger: “Let Go of Atlantis”
Sam Barbee: “Hybrid”
Ruth Bavetta: “Signals”
Lisa Creech Bledsoe: “The Magician’s Handbook”
Susan Cossette: “She Waits Behind the Drapes”
Imran Boe Khan: “A Thousand Miles from Your Bedside”
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Thank you to our nominees and all our contributors this year who have filled our site with their stunning poetry.
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hymn to groundhog day
this café is contrary
a strange anomaly in a land of diners
walls paper brick with watercolor mustangs
one calendar, two posters of the hulk
one hulk decal on the cooler
I wonder about the calendar to quality ratio
an equation mastered in blue highways
then wonder how many hulk posters equal a calendar
the waitress says her son raises groundhogs
I don’t know what to say
maybe she’s fucking with me
I look deep in the hulk’s eyes
this year he has forty-two groundhogs
I say, that sure is a lot of groundhogs
bessemer tunnels and carbon snow
a few towns away
my mother’s family settled in the 1850’s
dropping the A and E
dropping the family crest
marrying into a family with a township named after them
a yellow sign juts from the snow in surrender
I miss the america I grew up in
I want to believe this is a statement
on a widening gap in equality
on the erosion of class
on the working persons giving everything away
on the ways we allow government to fail
in not mandating social responsibility
instead, it’s another absurd conservative screed
about the good old days that never were
times when people went to church
family values happened and abortions didn’t
the stop signs have addendums
one says stop touching me
another stop, hump me
the last stop and dance
these winter messages so conflicted
I hunt frozen snakes along the kiskiminetas
here in the bleak of february
I fill myself with enough gray
to crush the restlessness that grows each snow
punxsutawney
ten hours after the groundhog
he saw his shadow
so did this town
there is no evidence this civilization
still tries to understand weather
through the eyes of animals
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About the Author: Jason Baldinger is from Pittsburgh and looks forward to roaming the country writing poems again. His newest books are A Threadbare Universe (Kung Fu Treachery Press) and The Afterlife is a Hangover (Stubborn Mule Press). A History of Backroads Misplaced: Selected Poems 2010- 2020 (Kung Fu Treachery) is forthcoming later this year. His work has been published widely across print journals and online. You can hear him read his work on Bandcamp and on lp’s by The Gotobeds and Theremonster.
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More Poetry by Jason Baldinger:
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Image Credit: Image originally from The quadrupeds of North America. v.1. New York,V.G. Audubon,1851-54. Courtesy of The Biodiversity Heritage Library. Public Domain.
As It Ought To Be 