Blakelight

One of my poems, "Shadowboxer", has been published in the newest edition of Blakelight. You can view it here: https://blakelight.org/r-j-zeman/

White Belts

I lean over
and
kiss her
at a party.
I'm holding
a glass
of cold
beer
in one hand,
and a
cigarette
in the other.
Crass
blasts
from a
cheap stereo
in the
corner.
She looks
at me,
grins
and sips
her vodka.
Someone
pulls a
keg
into the
room.
Two girls
laugh
in the
corner.
I smile
at her,
as outside,
girls sleep
alone
in their
bedrooms;
parents
worry about
their
children;
two cars
crash
on the
highway;
an old man
knows
it's all
over
now.
She winks
at me
and
pours me
another
beer.

Better Than Starbucks

Two of my poems have been published in Better Than Starbucks magazine. You can view them here: https://www.betterthanstarbucks.org/poetry-free-verse

Hemingway

Back
in school
they
taught us
English.
They
tried to
tell us
about
The Masters.
We'd
chain-smoke
in front
of brick
buildings
and stare
at girls.
We needed
an education.
They
made us
take notes.
It was
all
very serious.
I don't
know what
art is:
her hair
was art,
the shape
of her lips
was art,
the way
we kissed
on warm,
drunken nights
was art.
I throw
my cigarette
into
an ashtray
and walk
to class.

Vistant Lit

One of my poems, "Date", has been published on Visitant Lit. You can view it here: https://visitantlit.com/2018/09/18/date/

Burgers and Fries

I walk
into
McDonald's
and order
my food.
Sweat
drips down
my forehead;
the summer
heat
is melting
my
neighborhood.
The girl
behind
the counter
is young
and
beautiful.
Her eyes
radiate
a tired
energy.
She has
the look of
minimum
wage.
She seems
like she
wants
to throw
down
a tray
and scream.
I want
to scream
with her.
She hands
me
my food
and I walk
to the
corner.
I sit there,
eating
in silence,
as old men
walk
in and out
the door.

Hangover in Paradise

I stand
next to you
and order
two shots.
The neon
lights
behind
the bar
are so bright
they
blind me.
I take
my shot:
someone
plays
classic rock
on the
jukebox.
I light
a cigarette
and grab
your hand.
Two old
drunks
talk
and laugh
in the corner. 
I kiss
your neck
and look
into
your eyes.
You
and me,
kid,
we're
doomed.

Keep St. Pete Lit

This blog was featured on the Keep St. Pete Lit website. This is a great new resource for writers in the St. Pete/Clearwater area. You can view me here:
http://keepstpetelit.org/r-j-zeman/

Emeralds and Smoke

I wake up
in the
darkness
and walk
outside.
I check
my e-mail
and her
Instagram:
there is
a new
photo
of her,
soft
and pure.
I sit
down
and light
a Pall Mall.
Birds
fly over
my head;
the sky
is dark
and grey.
I think
about
how there
is nothing
left
for me.
I think
about
her eyes,
green,
wild
and alive.
A light
rain
begins
to fall.
I mash
my cigarette
into
an ashtray
and walk
back inside.

Quail Bell

One of my poems, "Name", has just been published in the newest edition of Quail Bell magazine. You can view it here:
http://www.quailbellmagazine.com/the-unreal/poem-name-by-rj-zeman

Tuesday Nights

I sit
in the backyard,
drinking
a bottle
of Popov vodka.
I light
a cigarette
and think
about her.
I wonder
if she's out
at a new bar,
with a new
boyfriend,
drinking pitchers
of cheap beer.
I pour
another drink.
My mind gets
good
and numb.
I light
a Pall Mall
and lean back.
I sit there
until
the sun
comes up;
then I watch
the people
go off
to work.
I climb
into bed,
still drunk,
her face
dancing in front
of me
like some
insane ghost.
I fall asleep,
alone.

Pif Magazine

One of my poems, "Phone Call", was published in the latest edition of Pif Magazine. You can view it here: http://www.pifmagazine.com/2018/02/phone-call/

Hexed

Your father
had it;
your grandfather
had it;
his father
did, too:
drinking cold beer
out at
the bar
until 3 a.m.
You wake up
with a hangover
and wonder
how you
got home.
Mark E. Smith
had it,
so did
Bukowski.
And the alcohol
flows and flows
into
your stomach
and your mind
races
like a locomotive
heading down
the track.
You order
another beer
and begin to talk
to a
beautiful woman.
Nothing
comes out of
your mouth
but mumbled
gibberish.
You go home,
sleep it off
and wake up
with a dull pain
in your head.
You reach
for a cigarette.
You try to
comprehend
how this all
even began,
but you'll do it
again tonight,
and again
the night after that,
into infinity,
forever and ever,
amen.

Scarlet Leaf Review

Three of my poems ("The Back", "The Fellowship" and "Art") are in this month's edition of Scarlet Leaf Review. Scroll down the page to see me:
https://www.scarletleafreview.com/poems15

Oddball Magazine

My poem, "Vacant Seats", was published in Oddball Magazine this month. You can view it here: https://oddballmagazine.com/2018/01/03/poem-by-r-j-zeman/