Showing posts with label published work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label published work. Show all posts

A quick word on my words

Posted by Unknown | Posted in , , , , , , , , , , , | Posted on Thursday, May 19, 2011

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Recently, my poem "Legs, lips, sex & jazz" was published in issue #4 of Word Fountain, a publication from the Osterhout Free Library in Wilkes-Barre, PA. It's a free, local literary journal compiled and distributed by the staff of the library. Submissions for each issue are based around a central idea. Issue #4's focus was centered on music. Though I haven't had a chance to sit down and read the issue yet, you can read the online version here. If you're interested in submitting or obtaining a copy of the issue, contact information can be found here.

In June, two more of my poems will be appearing in the Boston Literary Magazine for the 2011 Summer issue. It will appear online first and in print shortly thereafter. You can read past issues and find out more information on this great journal at BostonLiteraryMagazine.com.

Lastly, if you live anywhere near Scranton, PA, myself and a few other poets/writers will be reading at the first ever Scranton Zine Fest on June 11th. For more information on that event, see my previous post and visit ScrantonZineFest.com.

Cheers,
Dale R. Wilsey Jr.

Heart in a foxhole

Posted by Unknown | Posted in , , , , , | Posted on Friday, April 08, 2011

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Heart in a foxhole
-------------------------

there are times when I can't
feel my heart beating inside my chest.
it seems that the blood in my veins
backs up like a city-wide traffic jam
filled with blaring horns and red-faced
motorists in a rush to get
nowhere.
I listen, but there is no sound of the
constant thump thump...
it's one thing to lose your keys.
not even a reason to panic when you
lose your mind. you can go on perfectly
content being crazy.
but this dead feeling between my ribs
sends me searching. I pull myself apart
like a Cronenberg scene spilling a
cluttered mess of me to the floor.
I have a lot more guts than I thought.
        but where the hell is that fickle,
               bastard heart of mine?
                        maybe it is my mind I've lost.
I begin rummaging through the inside of
my whiskey-soaked shell until finally,
tucked away between the aching
bones of my spine, I find that
barely beating mass of muscle.
hiding like a chicken-shit 
from the battlefields of 
everything.
but it's about time it started pulling
its weight around here.
my liver has handled sorrow for too long.
and my dick is tired of dealing with love.
so I pull its cowardly, beating ass from
the foxhole of my spine and
throw him to the frontline.
face the blitzkrieg.
     take a few bullets and
     shards of shrapnel.
                    collect scars.
      lose fights.
women.

lose it all and
die bleeding with a smile on
your face knowing you
lived.



~Dale Wilsey Jr. 2011


"Heart in a Foxhole" was recently published on the Young American Poets blog (link).

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