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Jan.
2005
Mick Parsons |
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Mick
Parsons lives and writes in Roselawn, a suburb in the shadow
of Cincinnati, Ohio. When he’s not writing, he teaches
composition part-time at
several area universities, covertly encouraging student rebellion, and ensuring
he will never be hired full time. He also teaches teen poetry workshops and on
occassion, and sits at home drinking home brew while talking about "getting
out and socializing one of these days."
Mick is currently working to develop and set up The One-Legged Cow, a small press
which is slated to launch April 1st, 2005.
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| mick
parsons, poetry, expedition notes, complete work, e-book, performance
artist, poem, cincinnati, ohio, arizona, northern kentucky
university |
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easter
eve
In
my father’s church,
the water is the blood and the life.
When I was 9 years old
I wanted to know
why the bread and juice was so important
that they were passed by me
in golden platters.
Now
the closest thing to redemption
is a scalding bath. My mother still insists
soap works better in hot water—though as a solvent
it’s not nearly strong enough. Sitting
until the water goes lukewarm,
then cold,
I remember
there are no Pentecosts left:
my fiery tongue smolders in the tub
turns the water black,
and all I have to show
is this separate, untranslatable language
with unpracticed hand gestures.
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