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    Before After
    Before After
    Before After
    Ebook94 pages39 minutes

    Before After

    By Owen McLeod

    ()

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    About this ebook

    From action figures to alcoholism, mental illness to mortality, devotion to divorce, Before After interrogates yet celebrates the paradoxes of living in a world both beautiful and brutal a world, according to these poems, in which Jesus texts random emojis from the cross, people suddenly sprout wings, human hearts are replaced by Platonic machines, and caskets are shrunk down to serve as symbolic trinkets. Along this journey through the real and surreal, the works of great poets Hopkins, Plath, Lowell, and more are lovingly subverted in the search for novel meanings that match this world. Written by a self-taught and award-winning poet, Before After challenges, with wit and compassion, our distinctions between thinking and feeling, sacred and profane, wellness and madness, before and after.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSaturnalia Books
    Release dateMar 15, 2023
    ISBN9781947817531
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      Book preview

      Before After - Owen McLeod

      Front Cover of Before AfterBook Title of Before After

      ©2023 Owen McLeod

      No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please direct inquiries to:

      Saturnalia Books

      105 Woodside Rd.

      Ardmore, PA 19003

      info@saturnaliabooks.com

      ISBN: 978-1-947817-52-4 (print), 978-1-947817-53-1 (ebook)

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2022947290

      Cover art and book design by Robin Vuchnich

      Distributed by:

      Independent Publishing Group

      814 N. Franklin St.

      Chicago, IL 60610

      800-888-4741

      CONTENTS

      Before

      THE OWEN MCLEOD POET ACTION FIGURE

      THIEF

      IN THE CREDIT UNION LOBBY

      MARK 6:11

      EAGLE BEACH

      A SONNET ON MY BIRTHDAY

      PORTRAIT OF WOMAN WITH CABBAGES

      BREAKUP AT THE STARFISH BRASSERIE

      SATURDAY MORNING

      ENTOMOLOGY

      BLOOD VESSELS

      FRAGMENTS FROM THE GUMBALL SCROLLS

      HEART OF HEARTS

      CRATERS

      YET ANOTHER WALK AWAY

      REUNION

      BUSHKILL CREEK

      JAWS

      BLACK BOX

      BLUE CAMARO

      SONNET TO MY INHERITANCE

      VENDING MACHINE SUTRA

      MEDITATION FOR BEGINNERS

      LAST REQUESTS

      MY LIFE IN OZ

      RICKETTS CREEK

      HOW TO STOP YOURSELF FROM CRYING

      After

      THE HOST WILL LET YOU IN SOON

      COMING OUT OF HYPERSPACE INTO THE REMAINS OF ALDERAAN

      THE LATE CRETACEOUS

      TOYS

      GOD’S GRANDEUR

      I DREAMT I WAS AT A DINNER PARTY WITH ROBERT HASS

      AMONG THE ROCKS

      LOW POWER MODE

      ART THOU PALE FOR WEARINESS

      THE WINDHOVER

      CORONA SUTRA

      I AM GONE OUT

      PINK SALT

      EQUITUM TRES COLORATUM

      THIS BAG IS NOT A TOY

      NOVEMBER

      GINGERBREAD MAN

      POEM WRITTEN IN MY FAVORITE COFFEE SHOP AFTER DISCUSSING PLATO’S SYMPOSIUM WITH UNDERGRADUATES

      FOUR PROOFS WHEREIN TEETH ARE DEMONSTRATED TO BE THE SOUL

      DAYSHIFT AT THE PLACE OF SAFEKEEPING

      THE END

      FANTASY HYMN

      ANOTHER SUMMER

      EPILOGUE

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      NOTES

      Acknowledgments

      About the Author

      Before

      THE OWEN MCLEOD POET ACTION FIGURE

      is now available in select retail outlets,

      the sort you can find in those dying malls

      not far from the regional airport. I come

      with a set of miniature accessories: desk,

      laptop, fridge, and toilet, plus a rusted-out

      Honda Civic. My limbs bend in such a way

      that you can slump me behind the laptop,

      staring into nothingness, or park me in front

      of the open fridge, contemplating emptiness.

      If you’re 18 years or older, try planting me

      in front of the toilet, hunched, so I can jack off

      over the bowl. After that’s done, fold me

      into the Civic, as if I’m going somewhere,

      but bend my body forward until my head

      rests gently on the steering wheel. Keep me

      in that pose for about five or ten minutes

      then reposition me behind the laptop.

      If that doesn’t sound like fun, you could

      rip off my head and replace it with Barbie’s

      or strap a pack of firecrackers to my chest

      and blow me to smithereens in the backyard,

      or squash me into a fetal ball and bury me alive

      in the sandbox. I know, I know: you outgrew

      action figures a long time ago. That’s cool.

      The Owen McLeod Poet Action Figure

      is OK with languishing in the bargain bin,

      lodged between discontinued rawhide chews

      and last summer’s glow-in-the-dark Frisbees.

      Someday, someone will scoop me up and find

      the secret button, no bigger than a pinhead,

      concealed in the sole of my foot,

      Enjoying the preview?
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