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Stymie Magazine

Autumn & Winter ‘11

For what seemed to be the longest time, neither of us threw another punch. Then we looked at each other. Ed Coletti ____ David exclaimed, “Are we out of our fucking minds?!” s we began circling, I observed to David Then he decked me with that same damn hyphy that his shoelaces were untied. But do you think he fell for that old poem, I shoulda seen it comin’ that time. trick? Yes he did, and I tagged him with a straight left So no rope-a-dope next time for the young contender. bloodying his nose something terrible. I took an 8-count, mandatory at my age, I didn’t give him time to stanch the flow staggered back on to my feet. but waded in with a flurry of combinations I felt it wise to offer that we’d better to his jaw and midsection. David wobbled, clean up for our poetry reading. but managed to say, “Good shots” then continued by stating his preference But trust me, it ain’t over yet, some real ugliness for Petrarchan over Shakespearean sonnets. is sure to break out here tonight at the reading. During a brief caesura, as I prepared my reply, I may appear to be old, tired and spent, I felt my face torn apart but just keep your eyes on my shuffling feet and by the fiercest blow I’d ever taken. know I never saw it coming, and he was all over me clearly that something is going to strike you with hooks, crosses, upper cuts, high up above, right there pentameters, couplets and epigrams. in the middle of your I reeled and rocked and knew that this guy poetastin’ mush-melons! deserved my very best strategy and tactics.

Boxing with Poet David Madgalene

A

Bouncing off the ropes, I hit him with my best impression of Mike Tyson’s voice: “The ref stole my title, and I have children to take care of” Then I got in a couple of spondees but he was too young and fast. Madgalene tattooed me with trochees, tetrametered me mercilessly, and sent me reeling into the ropes with his hyphy poem. I reclined against the top one pretending to catch my breath which was coming to me in wooden cubes trailing sawdust all over my throat. At least I pretended to pretend.

develop tactics, perfect our finger rolls and poetry slam dunks, find cheerleader groupies to increase the sound level, make poetry a lustier ballgame, home court advantage our own.

Such is the boxer’s inner chess master. Madgalene wove an epic tale himself.

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Stymie - Autumn & Winter 2011  

The Autumn & Winter edition of Stymie Magazine featuring work from Curtis Smith, Corey Mesler, Lucy Jane Bledsoe, Carol Gloor, Nick Ripatraz...

Stymie - Autumn & Winter 2011  

The Autumn & Winter edition of Stymie Magazine featuring work from Curtis Smith, Corey Mesler, Lucy Jane Bledsoe, Carol Gloor, Nick Ripatraz...

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