Poems written by GlenDodge

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GlenDodge

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.

Visitors To The Fair

Visitors To The Fair short poem

Someone dropped a gun in the crowd – it clattered like candy garish glare of night-time marquees scent of every onion in the world sautéing adults walking on, a mobile forest of legs intent on getting somewhere doing something a

Momentary Bachelor

Momentary Bachelor short poem

Alone in the house Ghosts holding their breath Slick sound of cotton socks On polished floorboards Middle aged man turned young A six year old doing figure eights Music on the stereo Ice cream in elbow crook Family two time

Coming Of Age

Coming Of Age long poem

she couldn’t stop laughing and the electricity hoarded by her belly in secret crept to her spine and began to seep toward the nape of her neck where it would explode like mercury brilliant and ungraspable to lodge in those

Omak, Washington 1979

Omak, Washington 1979 short poem

I was happier When I didn’t Know any better Middle aged now Rushing toward Rushing from Half tasted meals Unfinished books Tendonitis rampant Tell myself tomorrow That’s happiness Tense with impatience Silence falls Odd in the city Then windchimes Transported

Outlook Deteriorating

Outlook Deteriorating long poem

Sitting in the examination room paper crackling under your naked spine the worm of doubt working its way through your pipes just about falling asleep white noise strong as medicine honing the edge of your fever there’s a double tap

Everyday Trouble

Everyday Trouble short poem

I broke a nail shattered the smooth curve on some surface not realizing until I tasted salt and iron realized I etched a jagged trace of blood and plowed skin on my nose like a child then innocently hurting but

Nailed To The Cross

Nailed To The Cross short poem

There are no crows by that side of the road just dust and debris from the long-fallow field and that legless marionette hanging from a frame it never seems to age, its expression unchanging a glint of oversized eyes, vicious

Pale Maiden

Pale Maiden short poem

We joked it was the bud Of a unicorn horn Assured by the Professionals It would fade as The fontanels shrank Shielding your sprouting brain Cradled it against cold and impact Yet it remained Darker than a bruise Hard like

Tsunami

Tsunami short poem

boiling black lace smooth as a cheese grater boats and dreams your neighbor’s dog clubbed to stillness by a load of bamboo poles a mercy fire on the water smoke of mankind a dark Van Gogh picture underworld unfurling from

Biography

Biography short poem

I escaped from the arid reunion no uncle pressing a beer can at me no cousin failing to place me in the hierarchy out past the campground boundary dry seed pods scratching my calves find an apple tree at river’s

As Above

As Above short poem

Most frightening thing: it all makes sense there is a plan or at least a thread that can be traced back a fuse emitting hiss and stink it caused Kennedy to get shot , my mother’s canary to flit free

Experience

Experience short poem

goats ate all the flowers before chased by farm girls all the little rumps flee so pleasant over the grass bees in the clover formal in their golden dresses get their stockings dirty smelling like sneezes there’s a raccoon by

Confess

Confess short poem

We should have played truth or dare instead we played confess. This was down in the mildew basement mother-in-law apartment an unrented rental in a suburb notorious for its decline of population. Confess someone would say and point. It would

Suffer For Your Art

Suffer For Your Art short poem

The poet is drunk his kisses taste like juniper crushed seashells fall from his socks it must be early Sunday morning pastors dreaming about goldfish pavement caresses like a cheese grater weak knees pray the inspiration dead or at least

Bedfellows

Bedfellows short poem

It stormed all night rattling teeth and windows the small tribe of cats sheathed their claws for once crept into human beds drawn incapable of love to the safety of something larger a fleshy barricade to take the blows something

A Rumor Of Mortality

A Rumor Of Mortality long poem

He put on a tie for the appointment, carefully knotted it though while rounding up his necessaries from the scarred top of the old, painted dresser he dropped his keys twice and decided to take the bus His feet were

Tropical Depression

Tropical Depression short poem

sky gone the color of strong black tea wind assists everything toward the ground mountains were born for withstanding this world howl builds around craggy teeth when rain joins it mixes and remixes ultimate alchemist its runoff is life itself

Awakening

Awakening short poem

My wife gasps in pain there’s a dog running toward us down the highway median traffic is lurching the sun sits a dog’s head above the southern horizon Thanksgiving is tomorrow we have to turn time into distance the car

The Nurse

The Nurse short poem

she’s all alone again just a moment composing herself without a mirror tremors in her chest her rib cage trying to collapse upon her heart the first one – years distant was her grandfather on the carpeted steps next to

Living

Living short poem

They didn’t fear the violence in the sky Rare in Seattle, a dark parade of corybantic Beasts where there’s often a light grey Ceiling. It came on in a pinwheel, blotting Every point on the rose in its turn before

Middle Class Blues

Middle Class Blues short poem

Waking to dark An eel slithering Stand at bed’s end Quiet as a mote Not even a ripple In someone’s dream Washing, sleep dripping Pooling at the ankles Cold towel and foggy Mirror the radiator Reveille not yet begun Dressing

Bald

Bald short poem

It’s like breathing: At odd times you become aware – Not after jogging up seven floors Or escaping an accident With exhilaration, not regret, Those times are givens – Rather existing within a crowd In the audience before a play