the young american poets, they are a-changin'

so yes, we've been absent for a little while, for reasons fair and strong enough to halt our regular posting.

basically, as you may have noticed, our masthead has changed. we welcome our good friend and longtime contributor to this blog Beatrice Kaplan (Pembroke, NH, 1985), who has recently joined our editorial team. that should put an end to our existence as a boys-only club, something we never intended to be.

as for our friend and YAP co-founder Julian Bailey, he is just taking a break from YAP to pursue an MFA in his native Arizona. let this post be a virtual yet warm send-off for him. Julian, you will be missed.

also, we want to announce that Young American Poets will undergo a major facelift, to be completed towards the end of November. we'll keep you posted about the news.

now, back to poetry.


The Young American Poets team

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disembowelment

watch out and pray as I prey
ice cold but sweet as a magpie
what is a cluster within a mud pile?
do without, deploy, start all over again
shoot the stars and shoot your enemies
do something

how could someone be so flawed?
why isn't there product recall for people like you
just like they do with toys, pills

sad, lame and pathetic junkster
drinking somebody else's milk
sweet stolen milk

this being the case
I can't think of anything but cantankerous cranks
heavy metal scything, sugar pods,
bolts and guts, a tiny little hole
the infamous glaze, the red stare

I shout disembowelment, impalement
medieval tactics for your impoverished XXI century ethics
brutal force to arrest your carnal pillage
not hatred but mere sense of old-fashioned justice

you break, you pay
guts and all are now over the table
the dripping meadows and swinging shadows
of what could be the spleen, a kidney here,
some fat tissue there, the bloody landscape
of a not so delicate cross section
performed in a miscalculated slash from meat thirsty shredders
steaming and pumping still
a crimson tide and awful smell
and you won't shut up

left me with this as my only option
and as I slowly shove a little more I see tears
now that's what I call empathy
just like our counselor advised

hope you don't mind I took the poetic license
and read between the lines:
disembowelment


beatrice kaplan (Pembroke, NH, 1985)

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i dreamed of grinding your eyeballs

fall semester once again
the sun sets in new england
a cool night
and i wish i could set you on fire

last night i dreamed of grinding your eyeballs
and you were laughing
while i finished reading Also sprach Zarathustra
an annotated edition in German
that i got when i went to Frankfurt in my sophomore year

your silly meaningless laugh
and i was there
plucking every eyelash
plugging my energy saving grinder
it felt so good

let me put this clear: it's fine
that you go fuck half the dorm
but let me remind you we live
in the information age
you dumbass

and knowledge is not power anymore
it's on midnight madness sale
flows from the tap
facebook, myspace, anyone?
you idiot

so you had to satisfy you manly instincts
making passes to whoever crossed your horn stenched path
and after a few clicks i could trace your slimy deeds
you are such a loser baby

i hope your family dies
i hope your dog dies
and i hope my dream comes true
i really do


beatrice kaplan (Pembroke, NH, 1985)

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climb a juniper, touch the sky

i walked past the lake
crying a river after the sunset
with your voice echoing
in between the crackling foliage

or was it the wind?

this is a pain unknown
the one you inflicted me
with hollow tales
just promises
your tried and dirty tricks

i could call you brute
names
tear away the pages
of that self help book you gave me
move out of town and wash away my sorrow

i could kill you in my dreams
cry not a river
but all the lakes
climb a juniper
touch the sky

come down
and torch your house
watch you burn
burn
burn

that would make me happy


beatrice kaplan (Pembroke, NH, 1985)

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