poem
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Bukowski’s Bluebird
Not only words in his mouth but what look like feathers, clamped tight in his teeth like an anxious gambler’s cigarette. Cat eyed and smiling at the bar, he caught beauty perched on a stool and swallowed it in one bite. Now odd notes issue from his throat. His words come out as songs. —… Continue reading
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Come out of your houses deumming
Come out of your houses drumming. All others, beware: I have discarded my smile but not my teeth. https://poets.org/poem/incantation-first-order Continue reading
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The JFK Airtrain
The JFK air train chased by banshees through the small tunnels. No one else seems to notice. This is not the screeching wheel of a subway car but a haunted high-pitched vox humana tritone of torment. I am alone in the crowded car with their howling. Continue reading
About Me
Mark Folse is a provincial diarist and aspiring minor poet from New Orleans. His past blogging adventures included the Katina/Federal Flood blog wetbankguide on blogspot.com which David Simon told NY Magazine was one of three blogs that helped inform Treme, and Toulouse Street–Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans, which once outranked the Doobie Brothers on Google Search. His work has appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, The New Delta Review, Metazen, New Laurel Review, Ellipsis, What We Know: New Orleans as Home, Please Forward, The Maple Leaf Rag IV, and A Howling in the Wires (which he co-edited).
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Well Bottom Blues 