the poetry that matters

Mitch Corber

Mitch Corber, author of Quinine, has appeared in Vanitas and Columbia Poetry Review, and online in BlazeVOX, Blackbox Manifold 4, Listenlight and Polarity. A NY Foundation for the Arts fellow, he's producer of Poetry Thin Air, the NYC poetry cable show. He is videographer of Thin Air Poetry DVD Archives.



Of grist its wistful thrift.
Of grim its limb-to-limb.
Boon trellis. Fait d'or. Morphine
torpid on the tongue.

Twin friend famine flurry. Turret arc.
Turbine engine. Finesse a stress
of sorrow. Gnarled.

Light blessing over bones. Frozen
arctic, trip in transit. Dense
or western wind.

Seems wheat stands on its own.
Sown seed, autumn harvest.
Dusk offers germing husk, ex-chaff.





Placebo evil, speak no sheep
— assumption mumbles
molehill derivations
a change or a cherry would get
the goblin in his going

We're a teaser's mental thrust
a curse of a cuss
shutting the door on the
straight and narrow squiggle
— the fury of an absent giggle

Niggling we shower in a pantry,
pouty putty-faces puckering
in a spindly chromatic
of cardboard and lace —
a savings off the shavings

Nabs her collar in a shake of
severity a quake of conscience,
a slake of woodsy breezes
rills and brooks

During the jury-tampering
the modest crime of
kissing up to the judge
wedged itself in the jealous nettings
of a servant scowl





What she touches rushes up
my spleen as spinal rivets
resist the twist
of a hundred screws

Individual shy and of a primal
point these etiquettes
all eschew the warp
of ordinary love,
its cupcakes, its easy oaths

He's casual as a claw in the
raw testimony of rigid thumbs
spinning her jewels
in secondary school

We've rubbed into a doubleplay
— the sync of lips
grappling with a risky plum
the reward of which
is the sum of forgiveness

When friend will you write
with your teeth and your toenails
in the proxy of praxis?

No shoe followed shoe
in the roundly ragged routine
of seeming to spin   intoxicating
as if the front were buttoned
at the back







           I yell an acid farce a carcinogenic frenetic fancy.

           He speaks a sleek clay raised-glass sassafras
madness, a sleuthsome ruthlessness a rhubarb potion
lotion. A close-shave nay-saying servitude dude of
slack-jaw maverick mischief.

          Shards and needles seen but not herded cattle
butt heads with paisley William roll-call Capt. Ryan.
Purgatory penance prerequisite penury, a prick or
a prattle?

          Is she an Ivy League an eggy leg?

          Shaved showered squired squandered her
Virginia golds her vagina vagues her ammonia moths
risque red clay see thieves reek pellet welts fleeing
selective debt-exits in stealth meadows.

         Feathery father siring stray assertions zines
rolled up a punk of spooled ledgers.






Chase change in chiméra's conduit,
peak at the pluck of weather's feather.
Swap opportunities in dizzy song,
a surrogate leaping deeper-than-thought,
conscious as a wheel cog,
consummate as a cheering union.

Ride the wakened blend of back-break,
for gods' sakes a siren shimmering on the wane,
the brain-drain abandoned to a tortoise shell
of hellbent Wednesdays, a spooning outcrop
of the thrumming dumbing down of
bound sweat and braggage.

Move me as any movie
from a voyeuristic crouch
in trial-bubble bingo,
the ringtone nesting in a pensive
lemondrop opportunity.

While the peal of an early bell
deciphers its piety in a pricked blister,
to etch a wretch his bloody bond of crotch and hairs,
assembling in a wintry blink
this bare reference to the shin of shy resurfacings,
the bleating treatment of a bully goat.

Slashed as an asking price, tonight's itinerary
spites the sticker shock of drip-dry druids
in fluid robe, giving Death the breath it dreads,
in a seismic nocturnal foraging,
maintaining a moth-eaten mortgage
of the sordid spackled facts.


Bookmark and Share

                                                                                                           September 14, 2012