Seth Howard


VIEWS

SUNRISE IGNITED upon the Thames.
I stepped out. 
The balcony was empty. Strangers 
Would surely come. Trains would 
Blare their horns. But, at the time 
I was at peace. I lit my
Black & mild—gazed at a splendor 
Of clouds. 

A woman sat down to my right & 
Was soon accompanied 
By her friend. She listened as I played hip-hop
Jams. 
I glanced at her expression. Was 
It at all familiar? Her smile said; 
She hadn't seen me for eternities.

But she'd understood—(at least
In her own way). Was she Latin,
Or perhaps Thai? Did it impress 
Her, if 
I sang in Lebanese, or intoned a 
Guttural phrase in Korean? Yeah.
If it was Spanish surely, I would 
Hold my 
Own. Languidly; the dumb train
Passed—blared a horn to warn 
The non-existent JERKOFFS ON THE
TRACKS!



D.J. KIND

Silhouettes thrown across the river glazed with resin
My hands go numb in 
The ghastly castle air 
Beside the fishermen 
Beside the lonesome 
Fishermen of Dansui

Don’t tell me you cannot 
Hear the vampire's song
Above
Don’t tell me you cannot 
Feel the autumn BLAZES
Or the ORANGE  
Zones of spring
That everything changed
Lolita 
Listen 
To the voice of the swallow 
The burning leaves crisp  
Beneath your feet—but
Don't disturb the ghostly 
Sleeper 
O lonesome fishermen of Dansui



CITY LIGHTS

Yesterday it rained. The Ikebukuro streets—darkly lit—had drawn me 
From the monotonies of our modern life.
The station floated. The storefronts shot
From the page (of the poet)) as 
He dreamt. A coffee, or a couple chocolate 
pies. 
A collection of Kafka's Stories sank
Down into my pack.
I liked to walk along the main strip; 
Where the electronics shops lined…
During the holidays, 
The consumer went 
apeshit
For the latest Final Fantasy. But yesterday 
I only cared to wander—I only cared to seek some 
Quiet place to write. 
Blue lights bright; bloodred stains on the 
Road.

My heart ached with the seasons. But in a year—I wonder if I'd feel the same. 



A FEW INNOCENT LINES

Contemplate (as you walk poet) a memory of elms.
Think of the things the world's 
Afraid to mention;
That the public's neglected 
To note. 
Think of the things your pal  
Hadn't the heart to tell you.
You live your double-life—you journey 
Through misty mountains.

There isn't a reason to speak;
But you do so 
Nonetheless.
There isn't a reason to 
Pray; but you dropdown on your knees. 

Smile poet (in the sun) as you walk
In the rain while your child cries; in 
The wind. 

But what of the elms? The maples 
The ash? What of the public who's 
Decided on another path? 
Contemplate (as you walk poet) the mystery of faith.
As the sun & moon make love—.
Think of the things 
Your friends hadn't the heart to tell you.

Seth Howard is the author of Out of the East, & Waters from a Well; two experimental chapbooks. His work has appeared in Otoliths, BlazeVOX [books], unarmed journal, Big Hammer, Oddball Magazine, Chronogram, Saudade & Elephant. He graduated from the University of Connecticut, & attended Sophia University in Tokyo for three years. In his spare time, he enjoys the practice of Zazen, watches J-drama & studies French in New London where he lives.

 
 

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