<description>&lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;Listen to poet, John Compton, read his poetry and discuss his journey into writing poetry, publishing, and connecting with industry folks!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href= "http://yourartsygirlpodcast.com"&gt;http://yourartsygirlpodcast.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href= "https://www.facebook.com/josh.compton.12914" target="_blank" rel= "noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl= "https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.facebook.com/josh.compton.12914&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1599319905043000&amp;usg=AFQjCNF27BoYeTLxkNT3TexzQN3FjaVt1A" data-mt-detrack-inspected="true" data-mt-detrack-attachment-inspected= "true"&gt;https://www.facebook.com/josh.&lt;wbr /&gt;compton.12914&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bio:&lt;/strong&gt;  &lt;strong&gt;John Compton&lt;/strong&gt; (formerly John Thompson) is a 33-year-old gay poet who lives in Kentucky. His poetry resides in his chest like many hearts &amp; they bloom like vigorously infectious wild flowers. He has published 1 book and 5 chapbooks: "trainride elsewhere" (August 2016/TBA) from Pressed Wafer/Rouge Wolf Press; "that moan like a saxophone" (December 2016); Ampersand (March 2019) from Plan B Press; "a child growing wild inside the mothering womb" (June 2020) from Ghost City Press; "burning his matchstick fingers his hair went up like a wick" (Fall), From Dark Heart Press, "to wash all the pretty things off my skin" (end of 2021) from Ethel Zine &amp; Micro-Press. Compton has been published in numerous magazines and anthologies.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px; text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 160px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style= "border-width: 10px; border-style: groove; margin: 10px;" src= "https://assets.libsyn.com/secure/show/158450/a_child_growing_inside_john_compton_chapbook.png" alt="John's Chapbook Cover - A Child Growing " width="349" height= "456" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href= "https://ghostcitypress.com/2020-summer-series/a-child-growing-wild-inside-the-mothering-womb"&gt; https://ghostcitypress.com/2020-summer-series/a-child-growing-wild-inside-the-mothering-womb&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px; text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 160px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style= "border-width: 10px; border-style: groove; margin: 10px;" src= "https://assets.libsyn.com/secure/show/158450/Ampersand.png" alt= "ampersand poetry chapbook" width="350" height="504" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href= "https://www.planbpress.com/store/p56/ampersand_by_john_thompson.html"&gt; https://www.planbpress.com/store/p56/ampersand_by_john_thompson.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px; text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 160px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style= "border-width: 10px; border-style: groove; margin: 10px;" src= "https://assets.libsyn.com/secure/show/158450/that_moan_like_a_saxaphone.png" alt="" width="350" height="526" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href= "https://www.amazon.com/that-moan-like-saxophone-thompson-ebook/dp/B01NBP6JL3"&gt; https://www.amazon.com/that-moan-like-saxophone-thompson-ebook/dp/B01NBP6JL3&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px; text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;winter poem&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;mouth open&lt;br /&gt; letting snow cover my burial plot&lt;br /&gt; of words&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;&amp; fingers too cold to dig&lt;br /&gt; the tongue out:&lt;br /&gt; frozen corpse,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;the stature of teeth chirping&lt;br /&gt; a ruptured poem&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p dir="ltr" style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;we seeded him holy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;you'll find him in a chair&lt;br /&gt; sequenced&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;gay is vandalism&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;we used white rags &amp;&lt;br /&gt; smoke to purify him&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; to bleach the sin, to poach the black resin&lt;br /&gt; from the heart-skin&lt;br /&gt; to bring him&lt;br /&gt; right&lt;br /&gt; by rules of man&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; his arms &amp; ankles tied&lt;br /&gt;    crosswise&lt;br /&gt; the naked body a rosary&lt;br /&gt;         bead tucked in each wound&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;how we bury fish&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;motionless in my womb...&lt;br /&gt; i remembered&lt;br /&gt; my fish - i was eight.&lt;br /&gt; it was floating belly up.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;i tapped on my stomach&lt;br /&gt; as a mother – a little girl&lt;br /&gt; trying to tap her fish&lt;br /&gt; from sleep.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt;i gave birth to a stillborn.&lt;br /&gt; my father explained to me&lt;br /&gt; how we bury fish: i heard the toilet flush&lt;br /&gt; behind my sobbing.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p dir="ltr" style="padding-left: 40px;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p dir="ltr" style="padding-left: 80px;"&gt;&lt;img style= "border-width: 10px; border-style: groove; margin: 10px auto; display: block;" src= "https://assets.libsyn.com/secure/show/158450/John_Compton_Poetry_Reading.png" alt="" width="350" height="210" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p dir="ltr" style="padding-left: 80px; text-align: center;"&gt;John Compton Book Launch and Open Mic with Redheaded Stepchild&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p dir="ltr" style="padding-left: 80px; text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;a href= "https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4IlBdFVBCcE"&gt;https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4IlBdFVBCcE&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p dir="ltr" style="padding-left: 80px; text-align: center;"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;</description>

YourArtsyGirlPodcast

Cristina Querrer

Episode 61: John Compton

SEP 4, 202026 MIN
YourArtsyGirlPodcast

Episode 61: John Compton

SEP 4, 202026 MIN

Description

Listen to poet, John Compton, read his poetry and discuss his journey into writing poetry, publishing, and connecting with industry folks!

http://yourartsygirlpodcast.com

https://www.facebook.com/josh.compton.12914

Bio:  John Compton (formerly John Thompson) is a 33-year-old gay poet who lives in Kentucky. His poetry resides in his chest like many hearts & they bloom like vigorously infectious wild flowers. He has published 1 book and 5 chapbooks: "trainride elsewhere" (August 2016/TBA) from Pressed Wafer/Rouge Wolf Press; "that moan like a saxophone" (December 2016); Ampersand (March 2019) from Plan B Press; "a child growing wild inside the mothering womb" (June 2020) from Ghost City Press; "burning his matchstick fingers his hair went up like a wick" (Fall), From Dark Heart Press, "to wash all the pretty things off my skin" (end of 2021) from Ethel Zine & Micro-Press. Compton has been published in numerous magazines and anthologies.

 

https://ghostcitypress.com/2020-summer-series/a-child-growing-wild-inside-the-mothering-womb

 

https://www.planbpress.com/store/p56/ampersand_by_john_thompson.html

 

https://www.amazon.com/that-moan-like-saxophone-thompson-ebook/dp/B01NBP6JL3

 

winter poem

mouth open letting snow cover my burial plot of words

& fingers too cold to dig the tongue out: frozen corpse,

the stature of teeth chirping a ruptured poem

 

we seeded him holy

you'll find him in a chair sequenced

gay is vandalism

we used white rags & smoke to purify him

to bleach the sin, to poach the black resin from the heart-skin to bring him right by rules of man

his arms & ankles tied    crosswise the naked body a rosary         bead tucked in each wound

 

how we bury fish

motionless in my womb... i remembered my fish - i was eight. it was floating belly up.

i tapped on my stomach as a mother – a little girl trying to tap her fish from sleep.

i gave birth to a stillborn. my father explained to me how we bury fish: i heard the toilet flush behind my sobbing.

 

John Compton Book Launch and Open Mic with Redheaded Stepchild

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4IlBdFVBCcE