Marshall Woodward

I. Change your title andchange your namethis will be an unstable reading I stumble upon the thought that I never learned to talkthat I have lost my heavenly bodas tears get caught in my first wrinkles / they appear above our beefy nosedad: Happy Father’s Daymom: Happy Solstice he showed me the ropesand told me that sons should be soft / until they are hard II. that being silent was safermy WiFi died andby extension dad (dead) I lose my cool headand boil my testicles / a live streama lobster I love him I write a eulogy before you die to cleanse our remaining conversations(call this) a colonoscopy III. or a castrationI am the last one this is being silent / I was too loudwhat’s left of him is my intestines and bythat I mean intestines / the end of the line; father, IV. all I know is that you made meyour valves were chalk blocked full and stoppedzero beats per minute this is not about me V. the last rave isseen, but not feltI miss the velvet of your armpitsall that noise for nothing­how to say what you really mean
Radio Love I.This is not a true story / we were pulled apart. You called them the good times.Loving like girls in your Subaru.I hated your postmarked poems (fragile like porcelain!).Fighting like boys in my Volvo.I was forwarded your accolades on the Internet.You bumped into me in a bookstore on Bleeker. Sewn together by memories.Humping like rabbits.A pine straw rug. II.The male trim / the terrestrial orchid. Flowers re-animated.Posted three days a week.Video was a digital sin.(You must play by the rules, in these kinds of arrangements)Old dictionaries pressed purple weeds.Evaporating from Shenandoah.German cigarettes by DHL.Molly in the Reeperbahn, Neuköln.Nowhere.Your graffiti phase.Poets love a moon. You told me the postcard was a metaphor.Never knowing which of us you were talking about.I no longer like like you. III.Your address started with an 88 / Thank God I’m so forgetful. Buggy, buggy autumn nights.Morning brew with grandmother.Your shitty poems about grandmother. Showy lady slippers.Well packaged. IV.We could have saved the postal service / don’t you think?

Born in New Orleans, poet and producer Marshall Woodward received his Geology & French literature degrees from Washington & Lee University. He is the editor of the new satire publication, Cultural Fan Fiction, and currently assisting in the development of the adaptation of James McBride’s Deacon King Kong at Complementary Colors where he is a creative executive.

His writing is featured in Synkroniciti (2019), The American Writers Review (2020) and has been translated into French & Korean. He is a contributor to Runner’s World and Gossamer. He is grateful for the support and wisdom he received from his mentors at the Gulkistan Creative Residency in Laugarvatn Iceland, and to Elaine Kahn and Emily Hunt for the access they each provide for digital poetry communities.