picnic materials

Steven Lazarov


two blankets


books to read aloud






   cutting board & bread & cheese


   & jams & picklings & peach pie


   the last heirlooms of fall


   the apples, Cox’s Orange Pippin


   The sticky honey mustard


   i think there’s still a thick slab to saltlove


   Montréal pastrami in my mouth!


   my hand shakes my whole body


   at once standing—we in the shy


   marigold dawn push


   push together closer & further


   than what we had thought


   in thought was physically


   possible—my whole hand


   blooms at the center of 


   inside—being of your being’s


   being—being our being’s being


   & going, wet & picking up speed

in the womb of the old



Steven Lazarov lives in Chicago. He'll usually take the pancakes instead of the toast. His poems have come up in Dream Pop Press, Waccamaw, Paragon Journal, & Sheriff Nottingham.