Poetry | Page 96 | The Common

Land Rush

November 1, 2011 Issue 02, Issue 02 Poetry, Poetry

By STEPHEN HAVEN
Each evening my half-coon hound dog buries her snout
In her foul dish then comes up singing, moans, complains
About her condition, until I hook her up, let her shit
And piss among the graves—who’s watching, anyway?—
The groundskeepers all home by then, their evening shows
Just flickering, the trees along the forested edge
Leaning as always toward distant centuries.

Frond

November 1, 2011 Issue 02, Issue 02 Poetry, Poetry

By DANIEL TOBIN
It could be on a card, tucked away somewhere buried
In a drawer under tools, the keys to doors
Left long behind, folded like a phone number
Into the black book of forgotten friends—the name

How to Jump From a Building into a Dumpster

November 1, 2011 Issue 02, Issue 02 Poetry, Poetry

By HOLLIE HARDY
Come home from a Tupperware party.

Look out across the lake and imagine the feel of your tongue
against the truth.

Prevent the neighbor’s dog from barking.

Try to find the unselfconsciously erotic person hiding within. 

While Our Father Was Hunting Rocks

November 1, 2011 Issue 02, Issue 02 Poetry, Poetry

By ELIZABETH HAZEN
Mountains rise beyond the Laundromat
like ochre waves about to crash; our father,
armed with tools and pack, tracks the rocks
without a map. Here, the Laundromat is all
in a strip of vacancies; for miles, nothing
but dirt, dust, outcrop, sky. Our mother gives 

How To Perform a Tracheotomy

November 1, 2011 Issue 02, Issue 02 Poetry, Poetry

By HOLLIE HARDY
The first thing you need to know is that the tracheotomy  is an act of desperation and/or violence that should only be  committed when there is no other option.

SOME CIRCUMSTANCES WHEN IT MIGHT BE NECESSARY TO PERFORM A TRACHEOTOMY: 

Function of Water

November 1, 2011 Issue 02, Issue 02 Poetry, Poetry

By NATHANIEL PERRY
On rainy days the place seems smaller,
acres still ringed and shrouded by trees,
but the sky is closer, like something landing.
I know you’d like to ask me—please 

Many Desires, Many Secrets

November 1, 2011 Issue 02, Issue 02 Poetry, Poetry

By TOM SLEIGH
1.
Many desires, many secrets—that’s what the book said.
And it brought me to attention, watching the interior
branches of the pine trees swaying in a paranoid
whisper that reminded me of you standing over
me, your hand in my hand, your mind
not right but your whispering rebelling against
that hissing shhhh of what I couldn’t understand—

Gemology

November 1, 2011 Issue 02, Issue 02 Poetry, Poetry

By MARIE GAUTHIER
They hack their way through the wild
kingdom of the back yard
while she alights on a chair, her book
unopened on the grass, more
rest for her glass than her eyes,
which follow to foil: spoiled
moods, spilled blood, numinous
harms yet undreamt.

Lions

November 1, 2011 Issue 02, Issue 02 Poetry, Poetry

By TOM SLEIGH
At Show and Tell, in front of the whole class,
the cubs’ jaws yawned wider than the boa constrictor’s
that bolted down the lethargic, pink-eyed mouse—

how they’d nuzzle and lean into our stroking…
But when genetics took over, their cells didn’t care
if they grew up in someone’s basement or were teething 