8 Oct
G’afternoon’, South Bend & beyond!
It’s 4:13 PM on the eighth day of October.
Here are two poems and a photograph of a bass guitar…


By Leila Chatti

I like how easily I see
through you. There,

the slumbering bulb
of your heart

between the dead-branch-
thicket of your ribs.

Your fingers spindles
of air, slightly blue around

each tip. All
day I feel their cold

constant touch. You are heavier
than I thought; you cast long shadows

in the dark. I want to spend all night
talking into your silence.

In bed, you curl your whole nothing
against me, arm at my waist

my arm, breath on
my neck, my breath.

* poem from decomP, August 2014 (

By Kristin Abraham

We start off slow like this, red. Watch
the stones tipping off our shoes, the snow.
Each second small and aspirin-flavored,
the learning of childhood. May I sit? May I
stand? Look both ways, please & thank you.
(Curtsy to the crowd.) (Pause for applause.)
May I sit? The world is gathering itself up
to answer, making hesitant check-marks.
May I stand? Lists of hurt already long
enough. Long enough, the world begins,
begins a sigh. So we’re looking at the
cracks in the lampshade. Looking for
the yellow to come through, where there’s biology: electricity: math, meaning
the more we touch it, the more it spreads.
Like menthol, heat rash. The louder it gets.
Stand back; I’m going to need that air.

* poem from Little Red Riding Hood Missed the Bus, Subito Press, 2008


1 Oct
G’evenin’, South Bend & beyond!
It’s 1:41 AM on the first day of October.
Here are three poems and a picture of an adult beverage…

 (Photo by: Chad Forbregd) 

By Bruce Taylor

Nothing’s what it used or ought to be:
always too much of this, never enough
of that, only a drop left to drink,
no one to drink it with. Everything is
a miracle, or the miracle fades,
the glory of the world goes or goes on
without us, as far as we know, which is
little or nothing, chosen, as we are, or
exempted, delivered or abandoned we won’t
know until it happens, if it happens at all.

*poem from Rattle #41, Summer 2014

By Byron Case

To find for yourself, at this late stage,
something like joy. To tease up her skirts,
a dirty old man. To moisten your fingers almost
jubilantly. To touch and be stirred, even a little.
To be content with this. Why not? Near-joy knows you well
enough. You’ve flirted with her all your life: the cream
sodas on hot afternoons, the colorfully wrapped birthday gifts
given and received, the sodden aftermaths of school dances,
the jokes well told, the long aimless drives in September.
She spreads herself wide through these.
Back when you still had all your hair, when you
didn’t buy E.D. treatments on the Internet,
you had no idea that joy wouldn’t give it over,
that she was saving herself for someone else.
She withheld, so you drunk-dialed the one who came
in that sorry dress six years hopelessly past fashion,
and you did what you did and liked it.
And that was okay, like now. But now
it’s better because you know and can smile
minutely that she’s what you’ve got, sure thing.

*poem from Rattle #43, Spring 2014

By Charles Rafferty

The girl who kissed me first never kissed me again. It’s as if I spat her out across the years, farther and farther, until the taste of her disappeared, until she was reduced to black ink on an ivory page. More and more things are ending up this way: mountain ranges, the cosmos of swamp water, the wind as it rolls across ripening hay—all of it rendered in a tiny font that shivers like ants beneath your breath, leaving the worm exposed.

*poem from Rattle #46, Winter 2014


23 Sep
It’s 6:53 AM on the first day of autumn.
Here are three poems and a picture of a dog…
photo (3)
(Photo by: Madison Blue)

By Anele Rubin

A man on the subway is wearing a t-shirt
with New York City Mental Institute
stenciled on the front.
For a moment I think it’s real.
Then I realize it’s supposed to be funny.
Ha, ha, asshole, I say.
He is smugly reading his paper.
I am so tired of being sad.

*poem from Rattle #38, Winter 2012

It Can Feel Amazing to Be Targeted By a Narcissist
By Angela Veronica Wong & Amy Lawless

Let’s just see if it fits, and your voice blurred, your hand brushing away mine, me laughing because seriously who says that? I flashed out of my body picturing you saying this to other girls, and laughed again. Those are words that can only be said late at night in an outer borough, while Manhattan glitters in rows of mocking unison from over the bridge. Those are the moments when I think how did I get here followed shortly by okay whatever, like now, sitting in the park, watching couples strolling hand-in-hand. Once I made you cupcakes. In the morning before I left, I arranged them on a plate and left them on your kitchen table. Don’t worry, you weren’t the first one I’ve done that for. I’ll just think of the whole thing as a stretching exercise.

*poem from The Best American Poetry 2013, Scribner Poetry, 2013

Lake Sonnet
By Anne Marie Rooney

It was July. It was my birthday. I
was still drinking then. I went with the men
to a lake with no clothing on. The men
who for a year I’d loved hardly and I
walked to the water. All that love hurt my I-
can’t-say-what. My hands knew nothing but men
that year. In snow I stand out. Every man
I’ve ever seen has seen me back. My eyes
sweat from it. Though from there the summer breaks
off, it felt sharp and bright through the last hour,
like glass fired to grow before it breaks
against its own heat. It’s soft, and then it breaks,
and, seeing itself, shifts light. For our
trouble, we were cold and wet for an hour.

*poem from Spitshine, Carnegie Mellon Poetry Series, 2012


16 Sep

Check it out here:



15 Sep


Tracey Knapp’s MOUTH officially released/ upcoming events!

2 Sep














Mouth is available for purchase from SPDAmazon, or in person at any one of her upcoming events: 

9.9.15 Mouth book launch celebration with Matthew Siegel and Xan Roberti at the Bazaar Cafe, San Francisco, CA. 7 p.m.

9.17.15 Launch reading for 3 prize-winning books with Alicia Jo Rabins and Siamak Vossoughi at Alley Cat Books, San Francisco, CA 7 p.m.

9.30.15 Reading for Literary Speakeasy at Martuni’s, San Francisco, CA 7 p.m.

10.10.15 Reading for San Francisco Litquake’s “Ice on a Hot Stove,” San Francisco, CA Time 11-12:30 a.m.

10.22.15 42 Miles Press official book launch at Indiana University South Bend

11.22.15 Book launch with Alicia Jo Rabins at The Ivy Bookshop, Baltimore, MD

Goodreads Book Giveaway: Tracey Knapp’s MOUTH!

30 Aug

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Mouth by Tracey Knapp


by Tracey Knapp

Giveaway ends September 21, 2015.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway


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