Justin Reynolds
User ID: justinpaulreynolds

guardian and destroyer of the word:

I Live For

traveling . . . live music . . . delicious beers, delicious bourbon . . . hiking

Background

born in manhattan. now, connecticut after being in texas, virginia, and vermont.

Philosophy

why isn't it Friday today?

Poets

Bukowski, Baudelaire, Jeffrey McDaniel, e.e. cummings, Rimbaud, Apollinaire, Ferlinghetti, Brautigan, etc.

Books

Kurt Vonnegut, Charles Bukowski, Hunter S Thompson, Ernest Hemingway, John Fante, Louis-Ferdinand Celine, Albert Camus, William Saroyan, Jack Kerouac, Chuck Palahniuk, Don DeLillo, Tom Wolfe, Knut Hamsun, etc.

Music

Talking Heads, the Beatles, Keller Williams, Grateful Dead, Medeski Martin & Wood, Modest Mouse, moe., Yonder Mountain String Band, 311, Pink Floyd, Frank Zappa, Gomez, Phish, the New Deal, Johnny Cash, Disco Biscuits, Bob Dylan, etc.

Foods

Dogfish Head 90 Minute Imperial IPA

Hobbies

the written word, music, outdoors, traveling.

Gender

Male

Sign

Taurus

Occupation

journalist. . . blah

Education

University of Vermont/'06

Contact

Profile Views

4,439

Poetry Reads

38,585

 People I'm Watching


Amanda Marie


Andrés D.S. Wilson


Eric Lochridge


Gabe Lucas


Jamie Lynn Krzyskowski


Julie T.


Linda Goin


loren orts


Maria Rachel Hooley


Marinn Silva


Mat Gould


Nate Strange


Paul Michelle


Peep


R. Jones


Samantha Campbell


Sarah Carson


Sasha


Vanessa Schmidt

 People Watching Me


Anthony Palmatier


Brian St. Clair


Cassie Markley


Charles


DesignChef


Emerald Writer


Gabe Lucas


irina maribel cruz garrido


Jane Goodwin


Julie T.


Linda Goin


Maria Rachel Hooley


Marinn Silva


Mat Gould


Nate Strange


Peep


Sasha


Shonda Prudhomme


Thomas Moon


Vanessa Schmidt


Zachary Borkowski

 Shouts & Whispers


Sasha

closing? where you going? this place is limiting for communications.

07/18/10


philip allsop

Thank you Justin for your shout. It came to mind when? was the last time I gazed into an open fire, 59 years ago when I lived with the gypsies, outside our tents and caravans. That was realy something.

07/18/10


Sasha

I love banksy. oh and hello.

06/27/10


Mat Gould

for fuck sake, for any sake, for God sake even...put them all on their knees-

06/19/10


Vanessa Schmidt

miss this! hope you're well.

05/16/10


Vanessa Schmidt

eternal.

05/16/10


R. Jones

i love you back, jimmy rey-

05/05/10


Sasha

I'm here. I'm reading you, jsyk.

03/17/10


Mat Gould

jackal, Jimmy, jackal-

02/25/10


R. Jones

thinking about YOU, J. Rey.

02/06/10


Mat Gould

the circus brought their trains through town, we watched them go by.

02/02/10


Vanessa Schmidt

thank you thank you right back at you

01/05/10

entropy
Justin Reynolds

 

there are no more reservations
at the chateau,
the snow has fallen,
we've hedged our bets
on the advice
of charlatans––but this is just the way
the dice land,
a quick shake of the wrist
& we leave destiny
to the second hand.
there is no more wealth
in the banks of intelligence,
the vault has been ransacked,
there is no such thing as law,
it's time to lay low
in the bunker,
crack the window
to let the smoke out
& the fresh air in;
this is just the way
everything disintegrates
between
the chaos of a monday morning,
and
the serenity of 4 a.m.

we're all up against the firing squad
but at least
some of
our guts
are made of steel.

 

 

 Latest Poetry

the airport

for kelly

in a few hours

limitless

the overdose

38 minutes of amicable death

the toothache

one step closer to a new beginning

chasing the callipygian

 Cover Art

wyoming, july '03

 Journal Entries

in the face of arrogance.

04/30/10

Rhyming poetry

03/10/10

chapbook #1 available

12/10/09

LUXMAN

04/28/09

100 poems

02/27/09

where can we get politicians like this. . .

01/12/09

is submitting poetry to editors. . .

12/30/08

a dose of cavafy

12/12/08

published

08/03/08

 New Poetry Picks

the stonghold by Mat Gould

when the senses fail to recognize the certainty of curse by Mat Gould

a word at a time by Mat Gould

Sunflowers. by R. Jones

The Last Sip. by R. Jones

not a poem not a rant maybe a definition or just a joke by Mat Gould

what might have been lost. by Vanessa Schmidt

Tuesday Night in New Hampshire. by R. Jones

the jovial beast of shame upon us by Mat Gould

©2010, Vanessa Schmidt. All Rights Reserved.