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week of August 27 - September 2, 2007



Eric Steineger and David Kowalczyk

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Eric Steineger
esteineger@aol.com

Bio (auto)

Eric Steineger is a working actor and poet living in Santa Monica. His poetry has appeared in various anthologies and is currently in the August 2007 PoeticDiversity issue online. In his spare time he sleeps, eats, runs road races, and hangs out with his girlfriend.

Visit Eric on the web here: www.ericsteineger.com

The following work is Copyright © 2007, and owned by Eric Steineger and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


Marilyn Poem

1961. Marilyn, in a stairwell, smoking at the Beverly Hills Hotel.
Where are you going tonight?
Brave Marilyn, now antsy and moving upstairs to smoke on the balcony.
If I could remove the wishlist father and boarding schools I would.
Let your hair fall down. The makeup and sickness will follow.
The picture where your eyes are shut. Open them.

There have been and continue to be others like Marilyn.
Ghosts are the real reason I came out here.
Others whose casualties have not been finalized in celluloid
Do not seem to stay home:
They occupy windows in my hotel.
Are clerks in the lobby.
And still others spend their days coloring the Hills black and white
Looming like the specter of Valentino.


Jean-Baptiste Oudry’s
Les Oiseaux Sauvages et Les Autres



They are humans really the savage birds.
The others are running their errands.
If Louis XV wants the royal birds painted
The menagerie will linger upstairs.

Don’t waste your canvas on landscape
Nothing here but birds, les autres
No emotion but those eyes left alone.
You know them.


Cassowary
What are you? A large griffin with a pincer foot
You kill prey with that stationary eye
Not the elaborate blue swirl of your murderous feathers.

Clara
The rhinoceros paraded in front of millions
Has a sweet armored gait. The crowds descend
Nobody look at your face and the pool of yellow slowly.

Dead Crane
The weight of your head is astounding
Dense white cover for your stringed up body
A peaceful eye clouded by gravity and blood.

Male Leopard
Was captured! Outrage! Your spots had no time
To ready themselves are running all over
Your teeth are your eyes bared like fire.

Me
In leisure I wear my flesh suit I go about singing
Though my spirit is bird
My eyes do not pretend to walk on this earth.

This exhibit hibernates a hundred fifty years then decides.
Your eyes talk to each other in the dark?
I’m to be smashed, put on display stinking of color.
They are humans really the savage birds.
The others are running their errands.


David Kowalczyk
dvdkowalczyk@yahoo.com

Bio (auto)

David Kowalczyk lives and writes in Tempe, Arizona. He has taught English in South Korea and Mexico as well as at several colleges in the United States. His works have previously appeared in a variety of venues ranging from The Buffalo News to St. Ann's Review to California Quarterly.

The following work is Copyright © 2007, and owned by David Kowalczyk and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


Sorrow

Remember:
your tears
are only water.


Ars Poetica Haiku

To talk like the rain.
Words the color of oneself.
This is poetry.


Mysteries of the San Fernando Valley

How in the hell
am I supposed to take
anything seriously when
I'm living in a town
named after Tarzan?


Entropy on Mount Olympus

Neptune dares not dream.
That which is invisible
ceases to exist.


My Favorite Fortune Cookie

It takes real courage to be loved.


A Man With No Teeth Serves Us Breakfast | I'd Like to Bake Your Goods | Stolen Mummies | Brendan Constantine is My Kind of Town
Up Liberty's Skirt | Feeding Holy Cats | Mowing Fargo
| I'm a Jew, Are You? | Lizard King of the Laundromat | I Am My Own Orange County
Paris: It's The Cheese
| Poetry Super Highway | Judaic Links | Rick's Bookmarks | Cobalt Poets
E-mail Rick
| Other Cool Rick Stuff / Upcoming Readings | Who The Hell Is Rick