Showing posts with label maggie wheeler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label maggie wheeler. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

High Coup Journal - September 2010 Issue


(Photo by Ann Wright, Plymouth, IN)

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IN THIS ISSUE:

Shana Dennis (Terre Haute, IN)

Amy Harris (West Lafayette, IN)

Amanda Hillenburg (Sherbrooke, QC, Canada)

Kevin James (Terre Haute, IN)

Julie Kelsey (Germantown, MD)

Vinnie Kinsella (Vancouver, WA)

Taylor Lampton (New Brunswick, NJ)

Mike Lushbaugh (Terre Haute, IN)

Nicole Reich (New Brunswick, NJ)

Ray Scanlon (Rehoboth, MA)

Richard Stevenson (Lethbridge, AB, Canada)

Maggie Wheeler (Terre Haute, IN)

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Editor's Note:

Picking grapes is not
the romantic pastoral
task that poets claim.


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Mike Lushbaugh

Summer is settled
Humid thunderstorms all day
swamp ass forever


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Ray Scanlon

"Cheer up, cheerily,"
exclaim the robins at dawn.
Goddamn fucking birds.


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Kevin James

The sparkling bowl
never stays that way for long
after the kegger

Dancing Fool enters
does The Worm down the aisle
your wedding's ruined


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Maggie Wheeler

Cat in a trash bin
Woman won't give a reason
Throw her in instead!


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(These next two haiku
are inspired by a hate
of FOX host Glenn Beck.)

Shana Dennis

Little man spreads hate
Dances for the camera
Dance, attention whore!


Amanda Hillenburg


Fat guy on TV
Claims to be true blue Mormon
Did it to get laid



(Read a ton more poems like these at http://www.haikuglennbeck.com/)


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Amy Harris

Cerebral Palsy?
More like a sorry excuse
For shaking all day.


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Taylor Lampton

I am in heaven.
spirals, rubbers, and stick-ons--
school supply shopping!


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Nicole Reich and Taylor Lampton

Cheetos

Splendid are the curls
Of the crunchy snack-time munch
Bathed in orange dust


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Richard Stevenson

in extended care
my dad zones out mid-sentence.
a hummingbird hovers


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Vinnie Kinsella

Limp and impotent,
The power cord came unplugged--
Too short to connect.


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Julie Kelsey

LAUNDRY DAY

racing down the stairs
greeted by the waiting arms
of your sweaty shirts


MIKEY, AGE 4

idiblockon, noun:
idiot – blockhead – moron
a poet is born


JUST FRIENDS

under a blanket
curled on the sofa with you,
my friend, Nick-at-Nite


HEARTACHE

under a full moon
we kiss at midnight, yearning
for ibuprofen


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September 2010 AWESOME SAUCE: Vinnie Kinsella

Two lines, one corner:
Basic trigonometry.
You and I converge.



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Please send us more 'ku!
We will spend all October
scaring poems up.

highcoupjournal {at} gmail.com

Sunday, August 1, 2010

High Coup Journal - August 2010 Issue


(Photo by Ann Wright, Plymouth, IN)

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IN THIS ISSUE:

Joseph Carfagno (Fairfield, CT)

Andy Cognata (West Lafayette, IN)

Michael Frissore (Oro Valley, AZ)

Rosemary Foster (Bloomington, IN)

Amy Harris (West Lafayette, IN)

Kim Keith (Gold Canyon, AZ)

Lisa McClintock (Sheridan, WY)

Ray Scanlon (Rehoboth, MA)

Don Thackery (Dexter, MI)

Maggie Wheeler (Terre Haute, IN)


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Editor’s Note:

Despite moving north,
August still feels hot as hell
in Grandma's attic.


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Maggie Wheeler

Round Kick to the jaw
Crazy bitch knocked me out cold.
Concussions suck ass.

The cat stares at me
With fish running through his brain.
Duh, I just fed you!


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Lisa McClintock

A message sent, not
really meant. Too late now for
feeble excuses.


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Kim Keith

In Need of Salvation (and a Podiatrist)

My feet have callused
cracks, so I worry about
my immortal sole.

Taste Test

Murder on a bun
or bean-curd-veggie-burger?
The cows win—and lose.


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Rosemary Foster

So friggin' tasty
Freshly slaughtered pineapple
Bleed into my mouth

Rain steaming concrete
Washing my dirty skin clean
Born again again

Shit closed captioning
How dare you crap out on me
My deaf ass needs you


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Michael Frissore

Changing Diapers

The difference between
Comedy and tragedy?
Being peed on and...


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Amy Harris

Gas stations pepper
A great divide too wide to
Conquer or enslave


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Joseph Carfagno

Stalled in the hallway
Thinking my murderous thoughts
No weapon at hand

AM Consonance
Radio actor speaking
Tires or tooth repair


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Don Thackery

conceive an image
write three lines to make haiku
trivial pursuit

spring rains make roots wake
birds return for the warmth’s sake
my dry old joints ache


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Andy Cognata

Flordia is hot,
A grave for the unprepared.
Ice cream is God's love.


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Ray Scanlon

Clothesline

Clothesline in March breeze,
cotton breathes wintry freshness.
Spider in my shorts.


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August 2010 AWESOME SAUCE: Kim Keith


Forgotten

You ask for my name
as I call you Grandfather—
Alzheimer’s stole it.


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Send in your haiku!
September is coming soon,
right along with school.

highcoupjournal {at} gmail.com