November 27 – December 3, 2017: Poetry from Howard Brown and Alyssa Trivett


Howard Brown and Alyssa Trivett

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Howard Brown
brownwh1943@yahoo.com

Bio (auto)

Howard Brown is a writer and poet who lives in Chattanooga, Tennessee on Lookout Mountain.  His poetry has appeared in Burningword Literary Journal, Poetry Super Highway, Old Hickory Review and Blue Collar Review.  In 2012, he published a collection of poems entitled “The Gossamer Nature of Random Things.”  His poem “Pariah” placed first in the poetry division of the 2015 William Faulkner Literary competition sponsored by Mississippi’s Tallahatchie Riverfest.  He has published short fiction in Louisiana Literature, F**k Fiction, Crack the Spine, Pulpwood Fiction, Extract(s), Gloom Cupboard and Full Of Crow.

The following work is Copyright © 2017, and owned by Howard Brown and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


A Rare Bit of Sunshine

Sitting on the back porch,
John Prine on the radio

    telling me
    in his rusted, 

barb-wire twang
to blow up my TV….

    But I pay him
    no heed
    
as I bask in the warmth
of a December sun,

    realizing that,
    despite its vicissitudes,

including both politics
and diarrhea

    (which at times are   
    indistinguishable),

life is still
a wondrous thing.



Alyssa Trivett
AlyssaT316@aol.com

Bio (auto)

Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. When not working two jobs, she listens to music and scrawls lines on the back of gas station receipts. Her work has recently appeared at In Between Hangovers, The Literary Yard and Poetry Breakfast.

The following work is Copyright © 2017, and owned by Alyssa Trivett and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


In Transit

I reach into my bag,
as a game claw overextending
to the corners,
clasping a stuffed animal
against its own will,
to pull out the tissue 
to stop my nose from oozing blood.
Immune system weakens,
thinking the smoker coughs
loitering around are something
I’m able to catch,
not that I’d want that.
A patron to the 
left plays Candy Crush.
My eyes want to roll back
into my head,
but my video game life bar
remains full.
I trot into the day, in transit,
to overcrowded city sidewalks
and coffee cups bobbing
up and down.
Floating in a sea of backpacks
and cigarette smoke I would 
prefer not to toilet-dunk myself in.
Taxis crowd my view,
becoming my sunrise.
Jumping over sewers
as my athletic shoes 
record-scratch the surface.
The ungodly morning hour rolls on.