Serving House: A Journal of Literary Arts
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SHJ Issue 8
Fall 2013

[Two Poems]

by Roy Mash


Shelley’s famous
diss shows
Ozymandias hapless
as dust
his ruckus
past his 
bust bust

headless heedless
sans hands
sand’s face
he’s ghost
he’s toast



The Formalist Flattered

for R. F.
“Unlike some poets,” my friend tells me,
“you don’t barf on the page.”
Sweet of her to say so, sweet that she 
might think to disengage
me from the lax ill-mannered hordes
with their prolific barf,
those for whom every word’s
a kind of holy Arf.

But while it’s true my notebook
may betray a penchant for the proper
gussied forms over which I futz,
I do sometimes spit up a speck, 
an eyedropper 
of my guts.



SHJ Issue 8
Fall 2013

Roy Mash

is currently appearing as a regular in the movie of his life, where his character can be found doodling away his brief time staring out of café windows, dabbing up the seeds that have fallen from an everything bagel, and mentally thumbing over his poems that have appeared widely in journals such as Agni, Atlanta Review, Barrow Street, Nimrod, Passages North, Poetry East, Rhino, River Styx, and Serving House Journal. His book, Buyer’s Remorse (Cherry Grove Collections), is due out at the end of 2013.

“...we have been born here to witness and celebrate. We wonder at our purpose for living. Our purpose
is to perceive the fantastic. Why have a universe if there is no audience?” — Ray Bradbury