Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Splinter Factory
    Splinter Factory
    Splinter Factory
    Ebook69 pages25 minutes

    Splinter Factory

    By Jeffrey McDaniel

    4/5

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Whether Jeffrey McDaniel is denouncing insomnia ("4,000 A.M."), exploring family tragedy ("Ghost Townhouse"), or celebrating love and lust ("The Biology of Numbers"), his writing is original and provocative. A noted poet, McDaniel has appeared on ABC’s Nightline and NPR’s Talk of the Nation. "Wild, fierce, irreverent, full of praise and lament, and deeply, intensely human." Thomas Lux
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherManic D Press, Inc.
    Release dateSep 1, 2002
    ISBN9781933149486
    Splinter Factory

    Related to Splinter Factory

    Related ebooks

    Poetry For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Five Poems

      Nov 1, 2018

      Moon river, swollen river, river of starholeand bright, harness river, lichen river,river we velvet with our filth.River of butter and river of witches, rivercracked open careful like egg, or burstapart, unleashing its violet load.River mouths, river

      2 min read

    • Article

      Fifteen Poets on Revision

      Feb 27, 2018

      After 17 drafts over two weeks, Elizabeth Bishop’s poem “One Art” was completed on November 4, 1975. The poem began as notes, and evolved into a villanelle. She changed the title. She deleted words. She reached for possible rhymes. Brett Candlish Mil

      4 min read

    • Article

      Devil Asks Why You Would Mouth The Word Pity

      Jul 1, 2022

      even in this abundance of dark? Even in this abundance of dark you have totake the stars on faith. Look: Under today’s dim sky there is a basket.In that basket there is a fish. Come night, you are the animal that will eat the best parts of it. And ye

      1 min read

    • Article

      from BLACK PASTORAL

      Nov 1, 2023

      somewheres, some lifetimes ago I have run so far, so long.There is nowhere I haven’t beenBut here, in this field, a bodyLength from the ragged brinkThat gives way to forest.I collapsed here, the thin, hard slipOf me whittled at both ends.I want badly

      4 min read

    • Article

      An Anti-Racist Poetry Reading List

      Jun 8, 2020

      These recent poetry collections offer poignant narratives and snapshots of racial injustice in America. The post An Anti-Racist Poetry Reading List appeared first on The Millions.

      1 min read

    • Article

      Ada Limón And The Poetry Of Rebellion

      Apr 7, 2022

      You know what? I’m 45, and I get to write whatever poems I want. The post Ada Limón and the Poetry of Rebellion appeared first on The Millions.

      5 min read

    • Article

      Poetry Rx: This Is the Year

      Jan 3, 2019

      Poetry Rx: This Is the Year
      7 min read

    • Article

      Five Poems

      Nov 1, 2021

      It is all, allover the earth, underearth, a graveyard: tree ferns, trees—roots,bark, seeds—ancientlife that emerged from the sea, forestsflooded to swamps& bogs, transformed to peat, transformedagain, sunk, coveredwith layers of earth with strangeamp

      2 min read

    • Article

      Three Poems

      Mar 1, 2022

      i look like someonehealing from an accidentbecause i am someonehealing from an accidentthe book of actsscales falling from saul’s eyesremembering my capacityfor stillnesshow long can i sitwithout looking awaythe fear of god escapingi desperately need

      3 min read

    • Article

      The Rails

      Dec 1, 2021

      The Rails
      1 min read

    • Article

      Five Poems

      Nov 1, 2020

      He kept me through childhood.There was a reasonhe kept me from sin like a biscuitwarming in the oven.It’s okay I tell the rain to keep him a theorybut bring him downonce in a while.It’s okay to be honest or selfishbut find the spot where you sinka li

      2 min read

    • Article

      Four Poems

      Nov 1, 2021

      (Residue, cellophane, liquid amber, pearl resin on cardboard) Platinum blonde, with whiteboxes of Russianchocolates. Silver liquid glitter,lemon candle, crimsonleather 1970 Mercedessedan interior. Gum drops, fox fur, creamblouse with gold specksand t

      2 min read

    • Article

      Four Poems

      Jan 1, 2022

      followed—in front, as horses—into daisy& silver dancing, knowing the jaw who unkeysin the danced earth to drink me down to haints,& will go again. was willed. distrusted happiness, addicted to it.a god needs of a god. here, i don’t want to reachfor g

      3 min read

    • Article

      Reenvisioning theWriters Group

      Feb 16, 2022

      IF YOU’RE like me, the only thing more difficult than struggling to revise a draft that’s stalled is struggling to revise someone else’s draft that’s stalled. Let’s face it: Reading other people’s writing for the sole purpose of giving them feedback

      7 min read

    • Article

      Four Poems by Eavan Boland

      May 1, 2020

      Four Poems by Eavan Boland
      3 min read

    • Article

      A Poet’s Craft

      Jan 1, 2020

      To begin with a definition: A poem is a text structurally constrained by the repetition of any language element(s). The continuum of poetic constraint is extensive, stretching from operations that a reader will find completely imperceptible to overwh

      9 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Splinter Factory

    4/5

    11 ratings1 review

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

    • 5/5
      Energetic, delightful, accessible poetry by a young master.

    Book preview

    Splinter Factory - Jeffrey McDaniel

    ONE

    Renovating the Womb

    Dear Mom, thanks for giving birth to me and not having an abortion. 2% of my time on Earth has been spent inside your body— more than all my girlfriends combined.

    I enjoyed my time in the uterus, reading what the previous fetuses had written on your walls. That's how I learned to spell. That's how I came out speaking.

    Driftwood Armada

    My first word was Give. My second word was me. I'm from filet mignon out of a can.

    I'm 75% Jack Daniels and 1/4 Portuguese table wine. The only thing my Irish grandfather passed down to me

    was whiskey dick. I was baptized in moonshine, circumcised with a shark's tooth. I know how it feels

    to pull down your pants and wiggle your ass at truck drivers, to rub your face in the bosom

    of pain, to tell a story and see a red flag rise in the listener's eyes and keep talking. No,

    I never had a problem with parties. It was the party between the parties that did me in: the festival

    in the stairwell, the bathroom stall soirees, till my brain was as soggy as a spooge mop

    in a porno booth, and my grandmother's heart was a pigeon I stuffed in a plastic bag

    and hurled off a cliff. Yes, I came close enough to death's face to smell the formaldehyde

    behind her earlobes. But I got sick of feeling like a million dollars’ worth of cocaine being flushed

    down a toilet. Sick of staring at the world through the mist of chemistry. Sick of looking

    for mother in chemotherapy, busting open my hourglass each night and snorting up the minutes.

    Yes, I broke my word so many times, it became a handful of crumbs I sprinkled at my father's ankles

    whenever I needed money. I'm fine. Everything is fine. When I quit drinking, the only thing I knew

    how to make was a fist. I'm not Irish or Polish or Swordfish. My homeland is compulsion.

    My national anthem plays whenever a drunk tumbles down a staircase. My national flower is a carnation

    blooming in the scrawny garden of a junkie's arm. My ambassador will be with you in a moment.

    He's busy repairing the tombstones I destroyed in the graveyard of broken thrill rides.

    The Abandoned Factory of Sense

    When I was a kid, my mother had the prettiest face: a smile that could pry open the hearts of construction workers, eyes bright as a Kennedy's future, lips red as a robin feather floating in a bathtub filled with milk, and everybody loved her.

    But when we came

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1