61. Indie Journal Presents The Poetry Of Janet Buck janet buck. email. Old Baguettes ©1999 janet buck. An oddity on urbanstreets beside Three Fountains nursing home. Sidewalks and http://www.strangecloud.com/indiejournal/poetry/buck.htm

Janet Buck email Old Baguettes ©1999 Janet Buck An oddity on urban streets beside Three Fountains nursing home. Sidewalks and traffic were not prepared to let your horrors integrate. The rolling chair you drove with buttons leaders of some war had pushed. One leg there. The other absent obvious. That stump protruding from your shorts old baguettes of sacrifice we soak in soup that never do come back to life. Perched like robins on its arm, there stood those famous stripes and stars. A little bitty fabric flag an eloquent site of patriotic clarifying human error. The Horror Flick ©1999 Janet Buck bright horror flick bent shoehorns for tight boots of war. In glitch of hubris, smug incarnate: errrrrrrrrnnnnnn. Take our stand in sinking mud. Gas mask politics in place, we breathe in hollows, contained some Satan. Carving off a Venus arm to be at all.

62. Tragic Pearls: Poems On Disability By Janet I. Buck Tragic Pearls Poems on Disability by janet I. buck. About the Author and Her Poetry.janet buck is a transfemoral (AK) amputee who lives on the West Coast. http://www.usinter.net/wasa/contents15.html

Tragic Pearls: Poems on Disability by Janet I. Buck About the Author and Her Poetry Janet Buck is a trans-femoral (AK) amputee who lives on the West Coast. She teaches writing and literature at the college level and has published over eighty of her poems in journals, magazines, and e-zines across the United States. Writing for her is catharsis. "The empty page is where I cry, where I feel, where I come a little closer to the goal of self-acceptance. The kettle-drum of stoicism we often beat until we break the stick; I hope that my writing will be, in some small way, a touch of harmony and an escape valve for others who stand beside me on this journey." For maximum effect, the following poems should be read in order. "The ones I chose for the WASA website represent the spectrum of the acceptance process. The first poems embody very stark admissions and realizations, but their tone moves toward coming to terms with a disability. There is a balance of tragedy and hope in these verses. "My hope is that the substance of my poetry will touch those who need both its compassion and its admissions; that it will, in some small way, ease the burden of those who read it." Battleships The Bruise The Fall Cobwebs ... Return to Homepage

63. Janet I. Buck Beaten, sagging. The beauty of rotting with grace. Shingles of a thousandtoenails. bragging of the grief they waltzed. janet I. buck. NEXT ISSUE. http://www.facets-magazine.com/Vol. II, Iss. 3/buck_preview.html

Potholes I look in shards of bathroom mirrors wishing for steam, for blankets of forgiving fog to keep the stitches down to tree lines hidden from the orange sun's clairvoyant eye. Who will love this road again potholes where a breast should be keeps gathering like minnows in a tide pool slick. I wish the current came and went, took me with its ethered foam. "You'll adjust," say mourners of this tragedy, who stand a step away from scars. "It's only a mastectomy" say women with two hills intact. They have the furry hands of men roaming theirs in midnight velvet flawless drape while rainstorms brew between their thighs. This is the moment of drought, doubt, and forcible rhyme. Strength is a corset drawing its string, but I see sorrow's flab in piles sabotaging silhouettes of every jet black evening gown. is just a snake and touch is fangs.

64. Janet Buck janet buck. Distance Dust. Money s presence swims to shore, a substitute forbeing there. Salmon have to fight a stream to hatch a gram of tenderness. http://www.moriapoetry.com/janet.html

Janet Buck Distance Dust Money's presence swims to shore, a substitute for being there. Salmon have to fight a stream to hatch a gram of tenderness. I migrate to your healthy arms. Shot like ducks before I land. When the phone rings once in moss green moons that still stir hope, I think a sister comes attached. Tandem breaths of splitting suffer need a little oxygen. My needs and errands on your list, a pier in sight of slipping ships. But these are mere cathedral dreams garbage ties for empty sacks. We'll turn our heads in helplessness just discuss new kitchen tile. Distance dust and dildos of a platitude are always thick in surface chat. I'll never beg for helping hands. You cannot train their waterfalls. Asylum A stairway's hill, Mt. Everest. Except the snow is rows of eyes. The poster child of Health Disaster Magazine. Stoic tunnels come up short. The tandem breath of sharing suffer always guides the river ink. Building homes from rotted trees the teepee, tap, and tribal dance. I'm quarantined by "set apart" liberated some by quills;

65. Sea Change - Janet I. Buck 2 Iss. 9. janet buck is a contributing poet and essayist at Biff s Boards. 2Iss. 9. janet buck is a contributing poet and essayist at Biff s Boards. http://www.homestead.com/biffsboards/JBuck10.html

Return to Vol. 2 Iss. 9 Janet Buck is a contributing poet and essayist at Biff's Boards. Visit the masthead for her bio, and links to more works. Buy Janet's e-book of poems about September 11th, Ash Tattoos , for 99 cents. Sea Change - by Janet I. Buck First Published in Rustlings of the Wind Dear Dad: We are still at sea. The remainder of our port visits have all been cancelled. We have spent every day since the attacks going back and forth within imaginary boxes drawn in the ocean, standing high-security watches, trying to make the best of it ... Love, S The Lutjen and the USS Winston Churchill side-by-side, deck to deck. The sign just reads: We Stand By You. Suddenly the buckled knees. Is this that that that Germany who roughly fifty years ago ground swastikas in human hides, marched children into rooms of gas? I still taste salt upon my lips. Hate's stranger has a different face, a softer chin. Maybe, just maybe, my history books lied. I'm flipping through photos of crushed towers and busy cranes, writing to my New York friends to see if e-mail bounces back Weak as a lisp from dry stream

66. Poems By Janet Buck janet buck. White Radishes. Silencia, this glue that keeps our wildernesswhole, began (I suppose) in the cold belly of your grave. http://www.megaera.org/Megaera/spring02/buck.html

Janet Buck White Radishes Silencia, this glue that keeps our wilderness whole, began (I suppose) in the cold belly of your grave. The moment my father spied cancerous cells, sperm of the hideous rape, swimming yet fixed on the glass. Adjusted his eyes, shut their lids to match the casket's creaking sound. I followed his feet to the bar, chugging a bottle, bleaching your visage, pushing the head of the bobbing duck under the surface of foam. You are the white radish with a hidden sting the garden with bite. So we stroll on stone, keep our toes inside our shoes, lace them with whatever fix seems palpable and easiest. There are questions alive arching their curves in the pill of your tomb. Its door was not meant to be closed. My curious mind the leprechaun and snakish fang shelled by her smile, seducing his heart to pound again its echo had practically rendered him deaf. I imagine your face, a musical wound, a bubble of soap that popped. Water developed a permanent chill. I blathered for years about NYC smoldering fog and cold cod shells of people, just people

67. Four Poems By Janet Buck Megaera 13. janet buck The Allnight Diner Is a sad poem of twilight hangingon to some ray, any ray called luminescence in the licorice black world . http://www.megaera.org/Megaera/spring03/buck.html

janet buck The All-night Diner Is a sad poem of twilight hanging on to some ray, any ray called luminescence in the licorice black world the waitress is tweaking a nipple or two for a better tip and the tipper is tired of money that buys bad news cold coffee, burned toast and a morning paper with coupons removed by desperate fingers that could be his. An old RCA recites the drum tap of coming war and gun control falls into the syrup pitcher dries up like a dead gnat the blizzard is settling in and love that never made it to bed is angsty and sour, trapped in the wait duct tape grows scarce at the five and dime next door. Did I hear you say "There is a door, a way out." Come sit in my booth, rub my knotted neck, hold my reed-like hands that have all but lost the music meant to be this page. If I Could Have Your Closet Back Another fatuous Mother's Day beside your pebbled grave approaches like the old cliché of trains with fire under brakes. I rhyme with nothing I can see, but muddy, vanquished daffodils beneath my stormy, salty eyes.

68. Desideratum's Doggie Dish By Janet I. Buck Print Version. Meet janet buck. Email janet at Jbuck22874@aol.com. Interviewwith janet I. buck by Lynn Laframboise. How long have you been a writer? http://www.wordwrangler.com/desideratum.html

Home Books Book CDs Music CDs ... Links Desideratum's Doggie Dish is a feast of what critics have called a "biting, hilarious, and original look at the roles of men and women, the foibles of bureaucracy, and the hubris of academia." want to pull a chuckle muscle or two. "When we’re busy laughing, we often forget that the nature of humor is a vice, one which presses without mercy on the cross skulls of humanity. The respite and relief of comedy can be deceiving: beneath the shade of 'giggle' lies a revealing view of our foibles shining in their raw and naked state before the glass of a bathroom mirror." Janet I. Buck ISBN 1-58630-073-3 120 pages Click here to read a sample Click Here for an Interview with Janet. Also by Janet I. Buck - Reefs We Live - poetry transcending disability. *Ratings: A = Adult Content, P = Some Profanity, C = Children, YA= Young Adult, and G = General Audience. This book rated A Paperback - WWP $12.95 (Plus $4.00 shipping) Don't Miss It! Print Version Meet Janet Buck , and hundreds of journals around the world. http://www.janetbuck.com

69. Two Poems By Janet Buck, Abalone Moon Journal janet I. buck. Spools of Thread. Copyright (c) janet I. buck 2003. All rightsreserved. Sign up for Abalone Moon s Monthly Poem and Link Newsletter. http://abalonemoon.com/buck.html

Janet I. Buck Spools of Thread Terror seems a diary in history books a sea of bugs on someone else's limousine, so far away it could be different planets now. As wheels climb higher out of the stifling heat, a pasture sits bales of hay arranged like simple spools of thread. From heaven it must look as if we're certain we can stitch a quilt. No doubt the deities guffaw. Soon enough they'll deliver a slaughtering storm, knife a tree with only light, reducing hubris to its crumbs. For now the sky is glass plate blue pine perfume replaces diesels pumping hard. Ash and smoke around a campfire flaring with its orange forks so nonchalant in contrast to the memories of Nasiriyah's battle hour

70. Janet I. Buck janet I. buck. Email jbuck22874@aol.com Home Page http//www.janetbuck.com Morejanet buck links and info http//members.aol.com/jbuck22874/whatsnew.html. http://home.earthlink.net/~bookwave/authors/buckj.htm

HOME More Authors More Poetry Janet I. Buck E-mail: jbuck22874@aol.com Home Page: http://www.janetbuck.com More Janet Buck links and info: http://members.aol.com/jbuck22874/whatsnew.html Poetry on BookWave: Showcase (11 poems) More Free Poetry from Janet Buck: A Boy, a Bottle, a Man (and five others) White Linen (and two others) Islands in the Deep (and one other) Achilles' Heels (and four others) (and four others) The Boston Elbow (and two others) Chief of Grief (Six poems) Dusting off My Alibis (and three others) Books and CDs for Sale by Janet Buck: Before the Rose Calamity's Quilt Reefs We Live Bookmarks in a Hurricane ... Desideratum's Doggie Dish Where do you live? Medford, Oregon What jobs have you held other than writing? Professor of writing and literature at Southern Oregon University and Rogue Community College When did you decide that you wanted to be a writer? I never really "decided" in a conscious manner. I dabbled a little in my early twenties and then again in my thirties, but writing was an irregular pastime because my head and hair were caught in the windy helicopter blades of more "academic" pursuits, getting an M.A. and a Ph.D., and teaching; I never submitted anything for publication. About four years ago, a very close friend of mine was going through the horrific procedure of having two hip replacements only eleven weeks apart. When I visited her in the hospital, I came home feeling horrendously helpless, watching the incessant dripping of blood bags and morphine pumps, her painful struggle to regain mobilityall of the things that are part and parcel of a major surgery, things I knew better than the back of my own hand. We talked a lot during that time and as I tried to help her work through the agony, it occurred to me that knowledge and discussion of my own disability might lift her spirits just a tad; if nothing else, she would feel less alone if she knew someone understood the traumas plaguing her. I wrote a poem called "Phantom Pain," a piece that examines the grieving elements of my amputation and the plethora of my congenital deformities.

71. Poetry By Janet Buck janet buck janet buck teaches writing and literature at the college level.Her essays and poetry have appeared in several publications. http://www.crime.se/twins/archive/street/janet/

Janet Buck Janet Buck teaches writing and literature at the college level. Her essays and poetry have appeared in several publications . Janet’s poetry sites on the web have received more than thirty awards, including the distiguished "Predators and Editors: Author’s Site of Excellence" and "The Circle of the Muses Award of Inspiration." "Writing," she says, "is a tuba in a long parade that chases pain and sorrow to its dissolution." jbuck22874@aol.com Kidney Stones 1 Honest Elephants 2 A Writer's Couch 3

72. Amarillo Bay Presents September Snow By Janet I. Buck http://www.amarillobay.org/contents/buck-janet/september-snow.htm

Welcome to Amarillo Bay! Something Good To Read Amarillo Bay is the online literary magazine containing the finest modern literature. Your browser does not appear to support frames. At this time, we require frame support. If you wish to view the stories in Amarillo Bay, please download a browser that supports frames. See the following sites. Microsoft

73. Amarillo Bay Presents A Faint Collage By Janet I. Buck http://www.amarillobay.org/contents/buck-janet/faint-collage.htm

Welcome to Amarillo Bay! Something Good To Read Amarillo Bay is the online literary magazine containing the finest modern literature. Your browser does not appear to support frames. At this time, we require frame support. If you wish to view the stories in Amarillo Bay, please download a browser that supports frames. See the following sites. Microsoft

74. Janet Buck, Poetry, April Wired Art From Wired Hearts Wired Hearts Poetry Raw Silk. by janet buck. Gallows of Gallo. janet buckBIO janet buck teaches writing and literature at the college level. http://wiredheart.hispeed.com/april99/janet_buck_poetry.html

Wired Hearts' Poetry: Raw Silk by Janet Buck Gallows of Gallo Moths that follow closet lights, I worshipped booze for twenty years. The gallows of Gallo was a nice way of dressing agony for a sit-down dinner Ether on a canker sore, the welcome numb came sliding in. The “nothing really matters clique” always had a place to sit. But bugs to bulbs, as answers go, sleeps in sweaters of our flesh. I learned from you to wrap emotion’s corpses well in zip-lock bags and stuff them in the freezer’s well. Its septic scent that swallowed air and held the ax away from thumbs. The cummerbund of “feel not,” a tarp I learned from you to lay below the bark of slivered pain; it kept the weeds from coming up. The Pathology Report You line up the world from purely scientific points of view. Dead people look calm, something I’m not in the rusty vice of agony. Your living made on wings of “after suffer,” not the cruel act itself. Pat-downs of these private snakes will always slither in the dark. When hurt knocks hard and rings the bell

75. Janet Buck, Wired Art From Wired Hearts by janet buck. Grammy s Tools. janet buck. Bio janet buck is a threetimePushcart Nominee and the author of four collections of poetry. http://wiredheart.hispeed.com/apr03/janet_buck_403.html

Wired Art from Wired Hearts Raw Silk Poetry by Janet Buck Grammy's Tools Death on Death When long black streams of limousines wound their snakes around another jagged stone, the house grew bored with the light. Dust grew wings; he followed it. He pulled down shades like people tear up envelopes because they've wasted tendons and joints and pints of sweat on ads in lieu of letters from a lover's hand. Red geraniums in June had leather skins beneath their buds. The amaryllis stayed asleep. They say he died from surgery and some infection rolling in. But battles were over before a scalpel ever brushed the possum's hide. He gave your silver to the maid, ate in restaurants for the noise. He couldn't stand the scent of sweaters laced around the dirty socks of losing you and living on. Your death lit his like a match. Roads to nowhere ready for the coming corpse. Gumdrops Bio: Janet Buck is a three-time Pushcart Nominee and the author of four collections of poetry. Her work has recently appeared in Three Candles, PoetryBay, Red River Review, Artemis, The Pedestal Magazine, Dakota House Journal, Poetry Magazine.com, Southern Ocean Review, CrossConnect, Offcourse, The American Muse, and hundreds of journals world-wide. In 2001 and 2002, Buck has received awards from Kota Press, Sol Magazine, Kimera, L'Intrigue, and The Critical Poet. For links to more of her work, see: http://members.aol.com/jbuck22874/whatsnew.html. HOME to Wired Hearts E-mail: Janet Buck These works are

76. Ariga Redirect Poems by janet buck The Boston Elbow When the magazine arrived with updates on prostheticcare, I did that cosmic hoarsy laugh (ironical comical smarmical sin http://www.ariga.com/visions/poetry/janetbuck005.htm

77. Ariga: Poetry: Poems By Janet I. Buck Poems by janet I. buck The Cubicle The cubicle has three bleached walls, a cold,blank floor, and a curtain that shrieks like a banshee under the axe the http://www.ariga.com/visions/poetry/janetbuck012.shtml

Home Since 1995 For Pleasure and Peace Search: All Products Books Magazines Popular Music Classical Music Video DVD Baby Electronics Software Outdoor Living Wireless Phones Keywords: Help Ariga, Use Amazon Use Google Search Ariga Search Web Poetry Poems by Janet I. Buck The Cubicle The cubicle has three bleached walls, a cold, blank floor, and a curtain that shrieks like a banshee under the axe the minute a victim is bared to the light. What ought to be colored is not. The hospital gown strikes our eyes as cellophane on ugliness. Olding's given neglig?e bought only by desperate hands. A nurse taps your wrist to bring up a vein, which of course is hiding in fear. A puppy to pet, a pencil to drum, a drink to caress some toy would distract us from thirst. I worry the scalpel will slip. When they roll you away, part of me pulls invisible ropes. I twist in a chair like paperclips to pass the unpassable hour. The right bend and a firm wish might be the savior you need for the spine stem drooping as water turns black.

78. Moondance Poetry; AN INTERVIEW WITH JANET BUCK By Susan M. Ellis by Susan M. Ellis. janet buck has a Ph.D. in English and teacheswriting and literature at the college level. Her poetry, poetics http://www.moondance.org/2000/winter00/poetry/buck.html

Moondance Sections Cover Arts Department Columns ... Women by Susan M. Ellis Janet is one of ten U.S. poets to be featured at the "One Heart, One World" Exhibit at the United Nations Exhibit Hall in New York City opened in April 2000. Her poem "Acrylic Thighs" was translated into five languages and paired with original artwork. The tour will travel to France, Australia, Vietnam, Brazil, and Japan. When I thought of who would be the best choice for my first interview in Moondance, Janet's name came immediately to mind. Her online presence is far-reaching and her poetry powerful. What follows is an in-depth of an artist whose candor will surprise and delight you. Susan: What prompted your first poem and how old were you when you wrote it?

79. Janet Gregory's Buck janet Gregory s buck Click photo to see full screen picture. janetGregory s buckjanet got her buck in east Texas. janet writes, I http://www.backcountryinc.com/huntfoto/htm/jgbu3.html

Hunting Gear Hunting Photos Testimonials Our Mission ... Safety Topics Janet Gregory's Buck Click photo to see full screen picture Janet got her buck in east Texas. Janet writes, "I was late getting to my stand one morning in late November (it was already light) and when I got there this beautiful buck was standing, in plain view, about 80 yards away. I took him with a .30-06". BackCountry, Inc. PO Box 190 19924 320th Ave NE Duvall, WA 98019

80. Offcourse #16 Janet Buck Three Poems, by janet buck. Yard Sale Blues. janet buck is a sixtimePushcart Nominee and the author of four collections of poetry. http://www.albany.edu/offcourse/march03/j_buck.html

http://www.albany.edu/offcourse http://offcourse.org Three Poems , by Janet Buck. Yard Sale Blues I sat at home imagining the sale of that "trivia" bridging rivers of your life. Meat in green pistachios I couldn't share with strangers roaming city blocks. Mother said: "It's all just junk." Alliteration broke my heart. I hugged the dusty books you left, rubbed their scents upon my skin as women do with inserts of a magazine because the bottle isn't there. I held your slippers in my palms as if the dents where toes once lay could teach me moral contredanse. What was simple trash to her was my immutable truth. A saxophone without its reed lay sideways on the sinking bed. its cherished wood now roamed by ants. Money couldn't shower sadness, clot the paper cut of death. I needed knickknacks of your love. This a brand of moving on my hands would never celebrate.

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