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June 26th, 2013 / 10:01 am
Author Spotlight & Random

Reb Livingston’s Poetry Home

Reb 7

“not impressed” — “not impressed at all”

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When Reb Livingston saw Joe Hall’s Poetry Road she wasn’t impressed. Wasn’t impressed at all. Hell, she told me, more shit goes on in my Poetry Home (where I’m working on my novel, Bombyonder) than all that stupid-ketchup-&-knives, “Poetry Schmoetry Road” bullshit. And so Reb and I did a little interview and photo shoot (her husband, aka “man-meat,” took the shots. Poor devil!).

And the rule, again, fyi, for the interview was that Reb could only answer with language from Bombyonder– samples here and here.

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Besides Beyonce’s “All the Single Ladies,” Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” and the entire Bette Midler canon, what sort of music and sound things or voices have you been listening to in the ol’ lonesome Poetry Home??

 

Songs on the fly

The unconscious lizard

A zipper up his ass

Silently managed

 

Mice crammed into books

The offspring’s first meal

 

A dead bird blasted

Someone’s dick

Is breaking

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When Chris (yr monogamous partner of a long, long time) is out of town how do you deal with the physical loneliness and strange arousals of an empty, abandoned Poetry Home (all the bible salesmen, mermen, mail men, athletes, pool boys, James Francos, Nicolas Cages (ahem), hunks, man-sluts, etc, etc, yawn) ??

 

Snickering like dragons

Hands pawing, probing my privates

Scared, vile and leaking

Those fuckers would all tweet and

Reweet and favorite and

Fuck them

 

Crying and deny, I wasn’t

 

Going to go near them

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Reb 3

“feedin’ it”

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The Poetry Home’s notorious for its ghouls & witches, kitchen gnomes and vermin, dolldrums, cyber fuck-throats, dish elves, troll accounts, dishes and stainless eyeballs, blah, blah, but tell us about some fire, newt-heads, brew and tarot-luck that you’ve been sustained by in yr Poetry Home??

 

A flying broom

Your penis keeps ending up

In my spaghetti

Because it was my desire

Like a bloodworm

 

The Worm Queen break apart

(Want to hear about marriage?)

A bullet’s path

 

Has tongues and eyes, will I see you

At the One Million Angry Penis March?

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Ok, I can’t take it any more. (Shiver. Shiver). We have to address the elephant in the room: what contributions–yeah, baby!–are you going to make for next year’s National Poetry Month?

 

raze the rubble, smite it, blank it, write it out, white it out

raze the rubble, smite it, blank it, write it out, white it out

go back to Europe on an inflatable raft and 

fuck my great great great great great great grandfather 

raze the rubble, smite it, blank it, write it out, white it out

raze the rubble, smite it, blank it, write it out, white it out

 

find my my great great great great great great grandmother and

tell her nothing personal

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Reb xx

“nothing personal”

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Certain disfigured and Whitmanesque, loafing Homemakers claim to have “seen the light” among the pots and pans and bathroom stains, and claim, even, to have been “born again” in the idle, fabric softeners, dull, linen and drudgery of the Poetry Home: tell us about any of your such transports?

 

”A” is for ass

A god in a puff suit

With its own colostomy bag, winged

Serpent etched on to it

 

A bona fide astronaut 

Cut out my heart

 

A barren rock garden

Bloomed

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Catullus, suffering over Lesbea, self-cautioned against “Leisure,” the scourge and ravager of so many kingdoms and their sometime Kings and Queens: what sort of bad (I mean bad, bad), bad, bad decisions have you made in the ruts and gluts and sad twisted channels and dungeons of the ol’ Poetry Home?

 

I could be persuaded to stop

Beaching myself like a bloodworm tossed in

Monstrous faces of butter

 

Poured mouthwash on my chest

(I didn’t really want this gift)

Volcanic ash

 

This test dummy’s mouth

Reduced to meat

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Reb 6

author’s photo

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Bio: Reb Livingston likes to skeet shoot, pump iron, chew tabacca, watch UFC and WWE. Reb’s a sucker for Monster Trucks, all forms of porn, and likes to watch The Expendables in his underwear. Early Garth Brooks helped shaped Reb’s “rugged sensibility.” But, above all, Reb Livingston is “a complicated, diverse creature. A fine mix of debonair and adrenaline. Battle scars and smooth jokes.”

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(Reb Livingston isn’t leaving the house any time soon. Whew!)

 

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