Marsh Hawk Review is an online poetry journal sponsored by the Marsh Hawk Press collective. Marsh Hawk Review will appear twice a year, under the revolving editorship of collective members. Each issue will offer a selection of poems solicited by the editor, in addition to new work posted by poets in the collective.

Monday, March 7, 2011


I’m Johnny Cash

Listen only to “Hurt.” Nothing
since Folsom Prison.

In ’64 Kristofferson buzzed me into
believing Bobbie McGee was a conservative
needing protection. Only, my back hurt.

‘73 we picked Grammy’s.
Week Janis kicked. Coward.

Reel Nirvana, Social D,
Nine Inch Nails. I’m the wig
without the teeth.

Seems just last week
I was a national treasure.


A Message to S.D. Jones

Thud the trampoline to signal innocence.
PRETEND to wonder who hid their contraband?
Secrete the secret pellets in your scar. (Champions
Like Samartino and Dusty
Skin salt in fists when the hapless ref
Is busy somewhere else.) Adjust
The blood flow to the brain.

Categorize yourself
As one who takes losing well,
Or badly, depending if you wake
With a throbbing solar plexus
From the Great Mephisto’s folding chair.

Freddie Blassie shall escort The Wolfman to the ring
On a plastic chain sprayed silver. Together,
Bounce multiple belt buckles, perform “illegal”
Holds, recall the degrading final
Scene of Requiem for a Heavyweight. After,
Wrestle scientific like the first Jews before
They knew their names meant Jewish.

Freddie Blassie shall apply the sleeper.
Let go and the set will blink.


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