When Emanuel Xavier, curator of the Bushwick Bohemia Beat Poetry column, announced last month that his monthly feature would be ending with his departure from the area, I felt it important not to allow the writing of Bushwick poets to lose a home here at Bushwick Daily.
Going forward, Chris Nold (that’s me), a longtime neighborhood resident, will be at the helm of a new monthly column, “The Z-Line: Bushwick Poetry,” featuring poems by local Bushwick residents. Poems can be about anything (not exclusive to Bushwick), but contributors must live within the greater Bushwick area or be a native to the neighborhood to be featured.
If you would like to be included in this monthly series, send 3-5 poems (10 pages max) to [email protected] with the subject “The Z-Line Poetry Submission.” Poems should be attached as Word documents, 10 point, Times New Roman font, double spaced and formatted as they should appear on the site if selected. Please include a brief 3-5 sentence bio and your personal relation to Bushwick. If submitting previously published work, please include appropriate publication credits. You’ll only receive an email if your poem is selected for publication.
Submissions are due by the first of every month, and the selected entry will be published in the final week of the following month. Current deadline is May 1.
Today, let me kick off this reboot with a couple of poems from an upcoming project, represented by the mythical powers of a subway train I know exists but have never come in contact with, one that gives this column its name. My previous works include “RHINO,” “Goodnight, Goat” and “Paid Extra,” self-published poetry chapbooks that are available on Amazon.
I look forward to seeing what you got, Bushwick!
“Onlookers”
The guy watching
a rather rudimentary
threesome on his phone
was replaced
at Lorimer
by another guy
this one watching
a Hitler documentary.
Oh, how many things
had to break right
for Steve Jobs
in order for us
to get to this point
in 2019,
I can’t help but wonder.
Huh? That noise, was
that a, yeah, that guy
just cracked open
a beer.
I guess it’s been
a long day
even when the sun sets
at 4:54.
“(message send failure)”
No recipient.
The casual Friday postal worker
dropping off nondescript packages
at 8pm unsettles me.
spincycle/lull/tumbledry/siren.
The clumsy choreography
of ambulance and cyclist
passing slowly by.
No subtitles.
There’s no way to change
the channel on this
laundromat TV set
and no one here
with the authority to
anyhow.
…
No bars.
Cover photo courtesy of Travis American.
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