- home -           - fontsize -           - next -


Joseph R. Trombatore



Joseph R. Trombatore: a Pushcart nominee; whose award winning collection of poems, “Screaming at Adam” was published by Wings Press, 2007. Recent poems have or will soon appear in Babel Fruit, Clean Sheets, JASAT (Journal of the American Studies Association of Texas), Origami Condom, Right Hand Pointing, Spoken War, Oak Bend Review, Dead Mule, Ken Again, Word Riot, & Offcourse Literary Journal. Editor/Publisher of the online Literary Journal of the Arts: Radiant Turnstile



Excavation

after Willem DeKooning's painting, 1950



Fog
heavy
as plump oysters on the half shell

rich humidity
women love for their supple skin

the inept hairdresser
women with big bouffants

despise

the wind hums
in this stillness of skulls

as lines of coal miners form at 3 a.m.
black lung, lunch pail, pastel eyes

dense as a dark room draped in film
smoldering stars & crows so incredibly

black
& still

I expect a hairy Lon Chaney Jr
to suddenly appear
& myself

without a silver bullet
& a torch to light

O Evelyn?








Woman in a Blue Hat

after Pierre Bonnard's painting, 1908




Her magnificent hat
is a blue norther
rushing in
like startled swallows

This is the color cave men knew
before fire
learned the taste of flesh

A burden
for such delicate shoulders
she could be off to start a war
carry baskets of fruit
to the front line

She keeps bees inside her head
licks honey off her lips
tastes her lover

A remnant of the Big Bang
cosmic
& primal

With her azure wings
of mythic stallions
long feathers for landing gear
she is definitely
up to something

Just look at all that gold
lapping at her feet







The Songs of Ossian

after Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres's painting, 1813



We are a people of war
the balancing of blood in wooden bowls
while running
with staff & spear

We are an ancient tribe
of blonde & bone
Bonfires remember us
how they played with our dead

We are white with passion
stars blaze in our women's hair
The touch
we return home from battle for

Our borders, our enemies
always changing
Forms from forest, sails slapping coastlands
We resolve to habits

Fathers taught, & theirs before
arms of strength, strategies
under cover of darkness
Dreams we have for our children





    - home -           - fontsize -           - next -