PAUL SHUMAKER


Paul Shumaker's work has appeared or is forthcoming
in Deluge, Mannequin Haus, M58 and Word For/Word.
He is an MFA candidate at the Iowa Writers' Workshop.






Diary (1)

Throughout morning.
Swollen.
I thought
of a book I'd read.
It had
descriptions
of silent films
of people leaving
on a moving sidewalk.
I watch.
Without ticking.
I drink it.
1
2
3 cups. Light-headed.
A car starts.
I throw my hand.
It moves.
A car starts.






Diary (2)

Biting air with lip.
Swallowing. Pillow-less.
Silt. I sweat. A piano
unused painted
with layer of red of gray.
Through lawn spreading
gravel.
Nothing with or without
some barking
dog. I pull my arm once
twice.
Air conditioner's
dewy hit now
soundless seems.






Diary (3)

Dilution. The point
of swimming.
Filmy so-so.
Walking towards or
walking on stairs
covered by brown
leaves covering.
With one borrowed
Pentax
circling the yard.
Palpitations. Despite
nail heads
numberless.






Diary (4)

Through grass
runs my hand
smoothly.
Someone's yell
recoils
around me. Were
I near creek.
Shallow
run-off. 1PM.
My arm
centered by window.
Across chair
a chord.
But this
a humid night.
I hear one
two cars
braking.
I find a stain. Afar.
Out window.
Above driveway.
Inches. Bag of.
A bag.
My cell phone's ring.



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