Jenni B. Baker is the founder and editor-in-chief of The Found Poetry Review. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming in DIAGRAM, Washington Square, Lunch Ticket, BOAAT, Quarterly West, and Whiskey Island. Her Oulipo-generated chapbook, Comings/Goings, was released by Dancing Girl Press in 2015. In her current project, Erasing Infinite, she creates poetry from David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, one page at a time. She is currently collaborating with composer Patrick Greene on a classical song cycle based on the Erasing Infinite series, set to debut in Chicago in 2016.2
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I steal home in the morning to find my younger brother on his knees. Pike’s fingers are jammed into something that looks like an engine. There’s newspaper covering the floor, and he wipes the grease off his hands before eyeballing …4
So mom brings a guy home tonight—fourth fucking guy in a month—and guess what? He has a tattoo that says I Love Mom. It’s on his chest. They both think it’s hilarious. He finds it so hilarious he farts …1
His door would open when I arrived at mine,
click of key to lock so much easier to discern
than the yin & yang of satellite jet streams.
Eyeglasses humid; hair—Einstein-wild,
he would always act surprised to see me.
I have a friend who has always been thin. Both Sasha’s parents, well into their fifties, are lanky, and, for as long as I have known Sasha—into our earliest years of schooling—her parents have been this way, pale academics, who …3
D talked about South Africa like it was one of his brothers who’d been taught, since birth, to hate himself. Like Harold, his mother’s bastard son, or William, who had sex with the nanny as a child. He told their …2
how much longer can I stand on this beach
how much longer can I write through the sand on this beach
how much longer can I watch them bury my friends on this beach
they bury the dogs on the …1
The hole appeared overnight, at least three feet deep, two feet wide, and two feet long. It was as if someone had taken a shovel and dug a grave in the backyard. That’s what it looked like, Marty thought. A …5
The first thing I remember after
they pulled the tube out of
my windpipe is a nurse by my side,
over me, gruffly insisting
I begin to breathe again.
Even now, sometimes I notice that
I’m not breathing, and I …
Shame|Shame, by Devin Becker. BOA Editions, 2015. $13, 104 pages.
To say the poems in Devin Becker’s new collection of poetry, Shame|Shame, are about shame misses the point. Rather, many of these poems deal with a particular variety of …4
On the loading dock
I see racked ribs
I think of us
hanging like bats
from the monkey bars:
you take off my hat
to let out the blood.
I float in the river all …3