Monthly Archives: March 2013

Poetry by Josh Fink in the latest idiom….

Some of the poetry for The Idiom Magazine comes from the literary blog, Walking English, this time around I chose a few pieces from poet Josh Fink

Josh is known for his tight rhymes and short lines and always great to hear read out loud….I think he might make some appearances at some of the Revolutionary Lounge Open Mics on Tuesday nights but keep an eye on the idiom site to see if he’ll be reading again anytime soon….for the blog I chose one of his more narrative pieces….

Find rest of the current issue here

The Closing Hour for Her

her nail polish made her fingertips look like jade
and she painted watercolor landscapes on her window shades
and she only drank tequila in pink lemonade
but she’d make the saddest man fake a smile

she had extra tall veins popping out of her hands
and she only knew two songs from all her favorite bands
and she’d talk about how much she hated their fans
and the worthlessness of what they call ‘style’

she rode the bus every morning and the train every night
she said just because she liked the change of the light
when she wakes the train’s boring but going home the bus is bright
and it stings her eyes when she sleeps

she kept all her favorite body parts in little mason jars
her toe nails, skin tags, and parts of her scars
she flossed with piano strings and strummed on guitars
and said, “at least this one gently weeps.”

she had bull frogs hopping all around the kitchen
and her aunt lived in the attic and she’d run down bitchin’
about the walls that’re moldy and her towel that’s gone missin’
and the rust at the end of the hose

and the Mustang in the half shed was forty years old
with a cherry red finish and the edges in gold
and the sign on the windshield said, ‘gone but not sold’
but she knows that everything goes

Father Whomever at Shop Something by Mike Noordzy

Mike Noordzy is a regular at The Idiom Magazine….really just cause he’s lived across the hall for most of the idiom’s life and plays very nice upright bass and other weird sounds… can hear some of his music at his record label, Nacht Records

This piece has the usual voice and charm of a Mike Noordzy poem….I would hate to be trapped in his head for longer then an hour so we’ll try to keep his podcast interview to about 60 minutes when we talk to him in an upcoming idiom podcast

You can see the rest of the current issue here and if you like mike noordzy’s work you can also find his chapbook of collected early works “Word” here..

Mike Noordzy

Father whomever at shop something

snaky time keeps on ticking ticking ticking
priest looks at his watch impatiently
old stereotypical probably jewish woman can’t seem to align her coupons and her debit card with her denture toothpaste etc
check out boy has a burning vicious hang over
don’t throw up, don’t throw up, don’t throw up
his mantra, supermarket yoga, apron meditation
jewish lady figures it out
priest rolls up
still sportin his collar
nodding to anyone who’ll make eye contact
giving them the old, “i’ll get you into heaven” nod
“hey, Neil” (reading check out boy’s name tag)
Neil ignores and rings up Father so and so’s pita bread and spray deodorant
“do you have your customer card?” Neil asks apathetically
“oooooh, i think i left it back at the rectory, can you put one in for me?”
“absolutely not”
“i beg your pardon?”
“new policy, nothing i can do about it, you’ll just have to pay full price, $15.73”
Father priest shakes his head in disbelief and pulls out a twenty dollar bill
Neil deals his cash, change, receipt etc, beyond routine at this point
“God bless you young man.”
Neil stared at the conveyor belt and said
“Whatever, fuck you, hail Satan, pervert, god sucks, eat shit, have a coupon stupid, buy some shit, wear a collar, feel important, make me feel better, i might have a bullshit job but at least i’m the real deal, the real shit, true grit and i’m chock full of that, not like you, priest, i almost wish judas priest was just called judas, cause they’re so fuckin cool and you’re so full of shit, your bullshit profession doesn’t deserve the honor to be mentioned alongside their greatness “
“I’ll pray for you, young man”
“Oh goodie goodie gumdrops, that ought to be very effective. Thanks a bunch Father, How creepy is that shit by the way, calling you Father, eww”

Lots of things going on with The Idiom this week…..

First check out our recent podcast that we recorded at AWP….in one of our previous blog posts we linked to all the mags and poets we mention so check that out…

Podcast #5 at AWP
In this post we’ll have Mark Brunetti’s poem from the current issue and a plug to a nice lil online magazine he was also published in this week. You can see Mark read this week on Thursday night up in Montclair and then on Friday in Red Bank…if yer in the area come on out (see our main site theidiommag for more details:

Here’s his piece from the Current Issue

The Things We Talk About…

You may agree with
my professor’s ex-wife
that crows always travel
in threes. We may
never agree on what
happiness is or where it
comes from. No matter how
much we talk, I’ll never know
what it feels like to be
inside of you. I’ll never
mention it again unless
you ask. No point arguing
about such things…

Mark Brunetti’s poem “My Redemption” was also published in the online magazine Citizens For Decent Literature, check it out…

The Idiom Podcast at AWP!

Idiom Podcast #5 at AWP

“If they’re doing something aesthetically with the cover, they must be doing something aesthetically with the work”  a quote from Bobby Fischer as we discuss how to choose what to buy at AWP….

I recorded this podcast at AWP a writer’s convention up in Boston.  With me are three guys who have graduated from the MFA creative writing program at William Paterson University.  Their names are linked to their twitter  or facebook accounts,

Tim O’Donnell   Bobby Fischer    and Charlie Ricardelli

We talked about some of the people we met and magazines or books we bought and enjoyed and I tried to find links to all of their sites listed below….the podcast does cut short at the end while reading A Ring of Muscle because I tried shaking my ipad as it was saving for some reason….

Prime Magazine    -the interactive online magazine that works really well on your tablets

the Bill Murray T-shirt that Charlie wore (couldn’t find the exact one but hers a bunch)

Don Dellillo

Matthew Dickman

Tin House Magazine   Matthew Dickman is the poetry editor

Amber Sparks 

Balloon Pop Outlaw Black     I looked up the author….she is really cute

Toad Suck Reivew

Unstuck Magazine

Intentional Walk Review   the online magazine of sports writing that advertised on stress baseballs

Bull Magazine  a magazine of men’s fiction

Hobart Press     the press that gave us whisky

Hoot Review a magazine that sends you lil postcards

Punk Hostage Press    the press that imitates book covers for their books

Openletter press     the press that has great translations

Calamari Press

Idiot’s Books   I also found this press that I didn’t mention on the podcast but I bought their book for my girlfriend and now she reallllllly likes me

40 on Berkely   the hostile I stayed at

Ink translates from the French for us….

Ink is a regular to The Idiom Magazine…I didn’t know he spoke French….the repetition in the piece contributes to the flow and the slant rhymes make it sound not so sing-songy to strengthen the lines…..stay tuned to the idiom and piscataway house publications as we continue to work on a duel collection of Ink’s work with another idiom poet coming out soon!

Find the rest of the current issue here


This poem is called We,
as in us,
not the French oui,
which means yes.

That door is called gone,
as in go,
the walkway outside, forever,
which means no…
I don’t really intend to stay friends
or call.

In fact, the next time you reach out,
as in ring,
another woman will answer,
which also means no.

Her digital voice
will inform you that number’s been
as in us,
which now means we,
exactly like the French yes,
like echoes
searching for ears
from heels
stomping away
from a closed door
with no-one behind it.
Not no-one like God,
no-one like me.