Hey Pulp Babes! It’s Essine, the Pulp poetry editor, and this month’s Late Night Poetry Club theme is Present! This theme seems to relate heavily to holidays and gifts; but more than just gifts, Present means a lot of different things to me. It can mean the now, the current. It can mean being present, feeling here, feeling in the moment. It can mean the exact opposite of that– a lack of presence, a missing presence. Whether it relies on a gift or recognizing how a presence is missing, I find that Present is particularly easy to relate to in the month of December. My days this month have swung from opposites quite rapidly; sometimes I feel absolutely here, and other times I feel I’m missing someone’s presence, or my own. I asked readers and staff to send in their interpretations of this theme and feeling, and here are their amazing poems based on it. Enjoy! – xoxo, Essine

pulpzinepoetry
Image by lilly vigna

Time is Growing In You

where do you exist if not inside

every single bad thing that has ever
happened to your body while your self
watched, thinking, this is not good but at least
it’s not happening to me?
existing entirely in the moment seems
like hell to me, but what do I know
about anything except constantly
breathing in air that smells
like fertilizer in the small
courtyard behind your grandparents’
house, with only one faucet of
running water and every person who
has lived and died there is with you
but you are countries, oceans, millennia
away?
the present is a choice you are
waiting to make, weighing the options
before picking the best moment to stop,
to lie down and grow into your memories,
becoming more and more full with every day
already growing in you.
Marina Santiago 
 ♡♡♡
Midnight Thoughts of the Present
Euphonious silence cover us in white, cold matter.A night so dark, I’m left to wonder: if we could see in it as plainly as we see in daylight, could it

be less fighting?

Would words mean something more or still be empty, groggy whimpers?

Put out the cigarette and continue walking, this is not a good venue to venture.

~*~*~

If there was no darkness masking our vulnerability, would we be less likely to fall for loneliness’

call?

Put out that joint and go to sleep, no need to burden yourself more.

~*~*~

I wish I had the same motivation as actors have in movies.

Open a bottle of Sweet Leaf Ice Tea, read the message on the lid “Don’t just stand there, do

something!”

I’d get up, pack my bags and leave.

No looks back

No good-byes,

I’ll leave for good.

But life isn’t like Crossroads.

I’m not Britney Spears

And there’s no karaoke completion that could save me money-wise.

Lexa 
 ♡♡♡
pulp zine poets
Image by Frances Sousa
Angel Massacre

A beautiful redheaded angel walks up to her.

A cigarette behind the ear, striped socks matching the collared shirt, and freckles that spread across more geography than her own freckled landscape.

With a nod of over-assumed acknowledgment and confidence the redhead released, “The darkness in me and darkness in you have a gentlemen’s agreement.”

Her right eyebrow slowly went up in an arch as her wide eyes stared, longer than expected.

Replying, like a song, “My darkness is not gentle nor man.”

She turns to the doorway with the stuffed moose head above it and walks through the frame,

Thinking: I reek of self-indulgence. These interactions are an obvious stunt in my tour de force in dismantling flirtation.

The redheaded angel appears at the nearest corner towards her destination and the sight foreshadows.

“I think there is something of mine that you have then.”

Sierra Kind

♡♡♡

 

i just noticed i don’t see you anymore

the way i miss people

is a kind of funny and a little ridiculous;

it keeps it’s clowniness locked away until somehow you come back to me,

glittered and divine.

it might be in a dream,

a parted glance on concrete,

a facebook profile picture juxtaposed against my loneliness—

either way,

you are a ridiculous flooding in my eyes and i recall when you held my hand on the fair ride (and it was always platonic, occasional best friend, up till one talk, which was more special, too)

and my mother mentions your name because she saw you at the chiropractor

this is when the clowniness comes in:

i left you in december so sure of myself,

and now i’m thinking of facebook chatting with you

my rejection against your rejection—

even when i was left with the wound,

tearing it open

is something my memory

is asking me to do.

Essine

♡♡♡

lnpc
Image by charlotteks

 

The earth gave rich smells as my steps expose damp dirt

under the graveyard of skeleton trees

I am absorbing energy through the soles of my feet

There is something electrifying about the cold that makes

my skin crawl and my hair stand on end

Often when I’m alone I’ll take off all my clothes and lay on

the cold tile

Close my eyes and feel my skin slowly tighten

It didn’t matter how cold, I liked feeling something

Something to make me wake up

Something to make me feel connected in a world that

never seemed to get as cold as I was numb

Yanderee Cintron-Davila

♡♡♡

 

 tornado watch

i try to remind

myself of the importance

of texture since

it can be recognized

in the dark unlike

form

it is raining and winding

outside today

and there has only been

one bird chirping all along

and that bird must be

either crazed or courageous

to be speaking in the storm

and i am daydreaming about

those huge arms that you have

and your soft delicious torso

and oh god

i bet if i buried my face

in it and snaked my hands

around to your lower back

grabbing at handfuls of your scars

that i would smell vanilla

and that is why i like the dark

i can put my eyes on mute

and focus on pressing more loveliness

into your already bountiful loveliness

and oh god

there are hardly any words

to describe you in a way

that would not be

an understatement

why don’t we just stand back

to back and take ten paces

forward then turn

to find that we moved

in the same direction

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

December 21, 2014

Comments

Thank you! It’s about taking a physical feeling in the moment to mentally feel in the moment. The numbness is being out of the present and fighting to feel in the moment.

I can relate to Yanderee’s poem. At times I feel numb. I enjoyed the style of writing.
Hope there will be more from Yanderee

I just found this website and I am in love. This is so perfect. Do you guys sell zines that come to your house?

Thank you so much Sabine! No we don’t at this time but we are working on it. Hopefully sometime this year. Thank you for your kind words <3

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