Zach Fishel

Poetry, Summer 2013


Little sparrows burn their bushy
homes when the snow starts.
Like cut tar and burnt
gears . I want to fuck a poet
who never wrote before.
The bareness lets you see their
wings, standing quiet enough
to see your steam leave
and hesitation comes like releasing
the parking
brake knowing you’re still gonna
move. Why do you like the brooding
rain? Doesn’t it only
make mud?


Disasters grow in the garden.
Canary eyes were
first seen when my dad
and mother made me from the
soft spot between their ribs.
The ghost
of what was a poem
sat in their bed,
sheets pouring out like a flushed
cheek until disruption
was just a mobile
at play unwinding.
The inadequacies
were enough.


Abuse is an exception to
All the rules
Entangling love. As if the
Turnstiles in a station
Airy guilt waft up from the
Broken grass, dolmans
Are dull to the living man.
Zero-in to the fly
Paper. Elegies are wasted
For the kids
Stuck on rooftops
Taking shots from a solo red
Cupping water in the morning
To wash over the face


Zach Fishel is the owner of Horehound Press. His work has twice been nominated for the Pushcart and his first chapbook appears courtesy of NightBallet Press.

Zach Fishel

Poetry, SUMMER 2012


Cutting onions
on a bamboo board
is like making love.
is the key,
remembering certain movements,
or peeling
the clear skin
underwater. Drowning
the stench,
and using a keen edge,
watching where fingers
are placed,
and not minding
being blinded.


Dead batteries
bubbling in a vase

Hangnails cut until

Case of beer followed
by cough syrup just to make sure you sleep.

Overworked heaters stinking the room
blacking electric whirls

Anvil eyes
straw hat pulled down enough to keep

The light


Sidewinding fires of the etymology
linger like wet smoke

Plastic cups microwaved melting
stained with port wine

Tinged tongues of licorice
old spice and straight silver razors

Sunshine on a bath towel
dish liquid lemons

Stacked along the corners
never neatly,
but never out of line.


Zach Fishel is currently the University of Toledo Press Fellow and recent Pushcart Nominee. His work has appeared in many print and online journals. He spends his free time editing between Jumping Blue Gods and Red Fez. His future plans involve owning a few goats and a doctorate in American Literature with an emphasis on William Faulkner and all things wonderful.