http://slow.writerscafe.org/bartonsmock The original writings of author barton smock en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776050708 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 from angel tantrum (self-published, April 2025)RESPONSORIAI said something perfect.Your father loved you.~I swim and the body means nothing.Nakedness. Hungry at its own feast.I should’ve touchedmore animals.There are no bombsif the dead give birth.~A sickness moving through the angels. One the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2955273/ VIOLENCES BEFORE BED designed our brotherdesigned a bathtub that couldn’t hold itself in any position long enough to keepgod’s gaze in the injured overlap of stillness as paroled by a creator stuck ina shape-addicted form designed our sisterdesigned her .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2955242/ SECOND MACHINEI watch movies naked and lightning tattoos god into becoming an addict. ~~~~~BELONGING MACHINEGodup latewith silentbabies http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2910834/ A ghost sets itself on fire with a cigarette once lit to mark the end of emptiness. No one cares about my body. Touch still doesn’t know that skin is the god of touch. I hide my daughter’s mouth in mine and wait for the angel of those on suicide watch to notice my teeth. The ghost is so .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2909389/ I smoke a joint. Lean on a horse. See a ghostsee my brother. Death regretsthinkingon death. Some  lose babiesto weatherto avoidviolence. Our baby talk mutes field recordingsof creaturesta.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2908350/ I can count on my teeth the number ofyour teeth gone soft in the knees of boys. There’s nothing you could’ve done tomake me beautiful. The ghost of body image believes in one ghost. We’re all tooyoung but see anyway the unfinished angel blowing on the stomach of christ. Mothe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2907474/ Two birds with one deer. Touch is touchteaching touchthe backstroke. The nudethink snowcan die. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2907462/ We had three good dogs. Three of my brothers shareda dress. Neighbors shook televisions to hear the ocean. Bones faked brokenness.It’s not hard to say it was real. In a city of bathrooms, puking is a language.Taking pills in a parked car shrinks god and/or roadkill. Sleep is smaller than.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2907279/ no surgeriesa performativegodfullyaloneseedless angelsa lot of touching http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2907005/ I never have enough teeth in my mouth to love my brothers equally. They each have a tick full of blood to throw at a beehive. We form a band to hide our erections but only write one song. Because I’m the oldest, I’ll be dead the longest. Boys don’t call things what they are. Baseba.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2906622/ I swim and the body means nothing.Nakedness. Hungry at its own feast.I should’ve touchedmore animals.There are no bombsif the dead give birth. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2906621/ The last beastI wishwe knewthe orderThere’s a crowcrying shapeunder my fingernailthat looksif you look at itlike a mapAngels make little daresbeneath god’s bloodangelsmake little dares http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2906610/ I reach into a dream and pull out no small puberty. Every sister is terrifying. Hundreds of frogs jump differently away from a pond with two shadows. I can’t afford a ghost but can a demon. It looks at my ghost. Then at my food. Days from now, an entire train is used to transport the bones of .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2906609/ you diein this poemso oftenby myunwrappedhandthat godpromisesto saltthem lessthe tornadoes http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2162599/ Moods for whale watchers: As god’s gift tothe suicidal mother, a stuffed crow goes a long way.  Balloons here lose their mannequin air.   ~ Mother as onewho gives birth to avoid confrontation. Years from now, I exist.  I want a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2162597/ wash oh pleasemy forehead with a mother’s handprint, be as sweetas my brothersfawningover the bellyof the loverwho’s by nowremovedtheir matchingimaginarytattoos, score the earlobeof a nail-bitinginfant, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2160984/ a circus worker smokesas onewho dreamsof beingbrainwashedin Eden the detailsneed some space every bee stinghas a ghost http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2160983/ The baby has jumped.  The baby is trying to find its place in thehome of having done.  The baby will landand maybe you can say something over it in that voice you do.  In that voice your mother loves more thanruined gender-reveal balloons.  Cold promballoons.  Than y.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/bartonsmock/2160982/