LB Sedlacek (Western Voices 2023)

Bio: LB Sedlacek has had poems and stories appear in a variety of publications. Her latest

poetry book is "Night Swim" published by Alien Buddha Press in 2023. Other poetry books include "Words and Bones," "Happy Little Clouds," "This Space Available," and "The Poet Next Door."  LB also likes to swim and read.

The Super, Amazing, Beyond

Hypnotize me

so we don’t

forget

how to swim

how to read

or

any of the

how’s

even the most

famous

individuals

palm trees

walk of fame

fingerprints

in

cement

have better days

***

Chautauqua

Beguiled

by pizza, pub chips

prognosticate

foretell from signs, symptoms

Arcanum

mysterious, specialized knowledge, language

elixir

accessible, possessed, initiating spells

pococurante

indifferent, nonchalant, allegories, glibness

secrets

physical and spiritual worlds.

***

---

Western Voices 2023 :: Setu, February 2023

L.B. Sedlacek (Western Voices 2022)

Bio: LB Sedlacek has had poems and stories published in a variety of journals and zines.

Some of her poetry books are "Swim" (Alien Buddha Press), "I'm No ROBOT" (Cyberwit), 

"Happy Little Clouds" (Guerilla Genesis Press), "Simultaneous Submissions" (Cyberwit), and 

"Words and Bones" (Finishing Line Press).  Her first short story collection, "Four Thieves

of Vinegar & Other Short Stories" came out on Leap Day 2020 from Alien Buddha Press.  She 

also served as a Poetry Editor for "ESC! Magazine" and published the free resource for 

poets, "The Poetry Market Ezine," from 2001-2020.  In her free time, LB likes to swim, 

read and attempt to play the ukulele.

Universal

Words are not bound

with ferrules, metal rings

metal caps placed at

the end of sentences

the end of paragraphs

the end of verses

words do not need

strengthening, joining, binding, fitting

before putting them away

implementing, wear, evolving, influencing

simple ubiquitous great versatility

tubes, pipes, handles, rings

simple metal bands used

to prevent breakage, splitting

pencils bound to erasers

bristles bound to paintbrushes

caps bound to canes

knobs bound to umbrellas

double-check that you are

entirely free of words.

*** 

Alternate Species

The coveted

bow for the

stringed

musical instrument

comes from the wood

of the pernambuco

tree (caesalpinia

echinata)

the official tree

of Brazil

an endangered

species

carrier of

nuanced sound

embracing

disappearance

in decades

littered with

disco balls

bell bottoms and

the 8 Track

tape which

some may still

have in their attics

or basements

if they crawl through

the cobwebs and

dig deep enough

through the boxes

that weren’t lost

the day the

moving truck arrived.

***

In Balance

The next thing

you have to

think about is

afterwards and ongoing

how easy will

it be to

hide, how easy

will it be

to keep boxes

unchecked, faces from

touching and what

if it’s found

out?, the secret

exposed the familiar

places filled with

strangers and stares

and those thoughts

of what it’s

like to lose

everything.

---

Setu, April 2022

L. B. Sedlacek: Poetry (Western Voices 2021)

Bio: L.B. Sedlacek has had poetry and fiction appear in different journals and zines. Her first short story collection came out on Leap Day 2020 entitled "Four Thieves of Vinegar" published by Alien Buddha Press. Her latest poetry books are "The Poet Next Door" (Cyberwit), “The Adventures of Stick People on Cars” (Alien Buddha Press), “The Architect of French Fries” (Presa Press), and “Words and Bones” (Finishing Line Press).  She is a former Poetry Editor for “ESC! Magazine” and co-hosted the podcast “Coffee House to Go.” LB also enjoys swimming, reading, and playing ukulele. 

 

Aging Backwards

 

When tongue ripe berries

pour over waterfalls,

tumble into dishes flaunting

wares on lazy Susan’s

the odor is terrific

as a new pair of shoes

soiled in streams with

no bridges for crossing,

the jungle lacks convenience,

so the mud seeps through

socks covering toes

with sediment and flakes

of gold – real or fool’s;

the answer only a rock hound

would know: the gravel

crunches underfoot the

sunlight melts the throat

fooling it into thinking it

is okay to cup hands in the

bubbling stream and swallow

a few mouthfuls and then

a few more swinging the

arms high overhead

and plunging into the

current (feet first, of course)

resurfacing further down the

line to watch as the new

shoes float away.

 

Elemental Genre

                       

A cacophony

a melody

of toots, beeps

and honks

resonating

the signature

song of the

widow found

in living rooms

on the sidewalks

or in the corner bar

natural surroundings

resonating

acoustics

volunteer musicians

with a repertoire of

show tunes, marches

hymns and classical

pieces

resonating

civilized attraction and

surviving

instruction.

 

 

Distance

                                

Clouds or discarded

rubber tires

could be a

lonesome bridge

spatial data explorer

recycled benches

from milk jugs

regurgitated thoughts

burned or buried

handsome statues

learn no secrets

chief, pilot

strange, spooky nights

avoiding contact

until crossing the

other side

of that bridge

whatever, whenever

it may be.

---

Western Voices 2021 :: Setu, February 2021

L.B. Sedlacek (Western Voices 2020)

Exclusive: Western Voices, 2020: Edited by Scott Thomas Outlar

Bio: L.B. Sedlacek has had poetry and fiction appear in different journals and zines. Her first short story collection came out on Leap Day 2020 entitled "Four Thieves of Vinegar" published by Alien Buddha Press. Her latest poetry books are "The Poet Next Door" (Cyberwit), “The Adventures of Stick People on Cars” (Alien Buddha Press), “The Architect of French Fries” (Presa Press) and “Words and Bones” (Finishing Line Press.) She is a former Poetry Editor for “ESC! Magazine” and co-hosted the podcast “Coffee House to Go.” LB also enjoys swimming, reading, and playing ukulele. 

17 x 12 x 8

I spent all day in the ER waiting
room watching a Spanish boy beat his
fist against the window.  His Mama
kept yelling in Spanish.  He would
just giggle and keep pounding.  The
noise made my knees knock together.
It was Sunday.  The cafeteria was
closed.  The TV screen was green.
The picture reminded me of the
Pong game that you could play on
your TV.  Two long white blips
for paddles and a white square
ball.  Someone threw up in the
Ladies Room.  An orange sign
told me to turn off my cell
phone.  It was not a problem.
I don’t keep it charged.
My voice mailbox is always
empty.  A few years ago I
used to get hotel reservations
when their number was one
digit off from mine.  I watched
a couple use a cell phone
underneath the sign.  I heard
about people’s migraines and
UTI’s and high blood pressure.
I had cookies from the vending
machine, stale peanuts from my
pockets.  I made a stick from
straws when the fan in the
vending machine room blew
my dollar underneath the soda
machine.  It was a lot of work
to get that dollar back, but
it paid for half of a turkey
and swiss cheese sandwich.  I can’t
sleep when I worry so I read

magazines upside down and
closed my eyes and opened them
again to see if the light had
changed.  I couldn’t read my
own handwriting.  I filled out the
forms too fast.  It was Sunday.

There’s nothing you can do about that.

When Democracy Became all the Rage

Your lip gloss
is
spoiled
your balloons unfilled
your t-shirts cracked
with ink
your
guard huts
empty
metal barricades are your
mirrors
your
command
lies in sidewalk cracks
or uneven brick paths
your
makeup
is
melting
your eye liner
smeared
your blush splotched
your mascara absolute
oh how your smile
fades in the background
of cannon firings and fireworks
a display of attention
hawking back
to
put on face
of pressed powder
power

Shred

Burning the contents of boxes
paper flying
ashes
as quick as a hummingbird
and oh
so
permanent

Setu, April 2020