Scott Emerson

by Arthur Graham on December 3, 2017


Scott Emerson’s work has recently appeared in Year’s Best Hardcore Horror Vol. 1, Quick Shivers About Bugs, Destroy All Robots, and Diner Stories: Off the Menu. From 2010-2016 he served as facilitator for Morgantown Poets, a not-for-profit group that hosted free literary events in Morgantown WV. One of these days he’s going to write that fucking novel. He lives in Pennsylvania.



Middle of the night
rage poem, impotent
bellowing into that black void

about women and the creative process
my twin frustrations, my dual downfalls
and it’s not making me feel any better

but just over my shoulder, skirting
the edge of my peripheral vision
I feel him hovering
Bukowski’s ghost
watching me bash the keys
nodding his head with a sloppy grin
as I hemorrhage like a motherfucker

it’s a little intimidating
like standing next to your boss at the urinal
knowing he’s judging your manhood
by the thunder of your stream

yet he’s not here to criticize
or validate my ego
or any of that shit

he merely thumps among the shadows
in benevolent indifference, another wrecked soul
fucked and forgotten by the Muse

I figure he’ll hang around
until this poem’s finished, or once
he discovers the cupboards are dry



The neighbors are on their back porch
disembodied in fresh darkness
talking about nothing much
in loud monkeyhouse whoops

they like the word fuck
but don’t know how to use it

their conversation sailing into my room
on night’s breath, making itself
at home, making it hard
to write

I already carry too many voices
inside my skull, thoughts
demanding to transmogrify
into something tangible, useful
something I can send into the world
like an SOS shoved into a bottle

or a letter of protest nailed to the
neighbor’s sagging screen door
asking them to please
shut the fuck up


for sale

one soul
some wear
no visible damage
make offer
I’m in hell

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