The Iowa Source

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Description of my blog

Rustin Larson's Blog
rustin Description:
Rustin Larsonís poetry has appeared in The New Yorker, The Iowa Review, North American Review, Poetry East, The Atlanta Review and other magazines. Crazy Star, his latest collection, was selected for the Loess Hills Bookís Poetry Series in 2005. Larson won 1st Editorís Prize from Rhino magazine in 2000 and has won prizes for his poetry from The National Poet Hunt and The Chester H. Jones Foundation among others. A five-time Pushcart nominee, and graduate of the Vermont College MFA in Writing, Larson was an Iowa Poet at The Des Moines National Poetry Festival in 2002 and 2004, a featured writer in the DMACC Celebration of the Literary Arts in 2007, 2008, and has been highlighted on the public radio programs Live from Prairie Lights and Voices from the Prairie. He is the host of the radio talk show Irving Toast, Poetry Ghost and lives in Fairfield, Iowa.

Untagged  1 Mar 2017
Homeless Man Living in an Abandoned Library by Rustin Larson Comment (0)

The books are all mine now.  It's too bad about the electricity, because it gets dark in here at night.  There's no climate control, so it can be pretty brisk in winter.  The books have fared well.  The rodents have done minimal damage, but strangely have chewed through the collection of Emerson which was kept on the bottom shelf of that section for some reason.  There are thousands of volumes in

Untagged  1 Feb 2017
The Philosopher Savant Meditates by Rustin Larson Comment (0)

Your mind goes on around you,

practicing piano in the apartment below

or standing in the cathedral of time,

meditating its stained-glass window,

its mandala of red and blue,

frankincense twisting to deletion.

Wind gushes against the blinds.

You listen not for completion

nor what’s forward, nor behind.

Untagged  2 Jan 2017
Roach Motel by Rustin Larson Comment (0)


I must do this to survive, Cardinal.

No breathing allowed, Mr. Bee.

I tripped on the stairs made of you, Maple.

Es muy Piso Mojado, Mr. Snail.

I will take my sleepwalk, Cloud.

The world is the mirror

and the world is purified.

Throw your hands in the air

and run. We'll be eatin'

what's on the shelf, Anne.

The puppy wants to jump

into the redwoods. The lamp

holds up the wine of

Untagged  26 Dec 2016
Revision for New Year's Eve by Rustin Larson Comment (0)

My Father Didn’t Dance With Sylvia Plath


New Year’s Eve, curled in the swiveling chair
in my parent’s TV room, “Garfield’s 9 Lives” cracking up
Katie, my five-year-old, and Ariel in my hands
as my father stalks from the left and growls

within his cavern of flu “are you reading
one of your competitors?” the proposition so weird
I spill cola on page 41, “The Moon and the Yew

Untagged  1 Dec 2016
Schloop: a novel. Chapter 2: Pizza buffet by Rustin Larson Comment (0)

In first grade my hands would sweat pools of liquid onto the fake blond woodgrain of my desk. Math classes made me tense. They warped my spine and made my neck hurt. Lift up the curtain of stars and show me the King's magic exit. They served chili in styrofoam cups and offered tiny half-pint bottles of milk. We ate on mess hall tables that folded up and were wheeled away through the gymnasium

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