poem: western montana

my mother birthed me into stranger places -- the mountains shornand shot up, as if Ithere, was one of them: too-big blue sky fit like a salt-block into my open mouth, deer- and oxen-child. if I had been born into a city, the masturbatory smoke andskyscrapers cut up around me, think -- what a little… Continue reading poem: western montana

poem: outline / satire / art

i thank God for internet aesthetics, that i am able to remake myself in so many, livid, anthologies -- the tide comes like a cusp over my breasts, but it is just my hands, clutching myself, seeing/comparing the male freedomswimming, angrily, through my eyes and then -- thesecold small breasts. i sat in a cafe,… Continue reading poem: outline / satire / art

poem: letter to myself

the only thing I could imagine piercing me todayis the long cat-vomit pink, stretch, of sky -- and after driving home, the awareness of the earth that would notaccept or come into me, the places I will not go because they are outside, and I cannot? cannot! leave this bedroom, the walls bent in and… Continue reading poem: letter to myself

poem: they say, men fall off the bottom curve of the earth

he bit into her -- in long, sloping strides, and theirAfter was like the fall of Troy, her dress caulking down to herankles in the same violet waves, as she had seen, in the leavingof the wooden places she called Now, and now in his comingbetween her, the ships rising and firing and not ever,… Continue reading poem: they say, men fall off the bottom curve of the earth

poem: shire’s end

rather laboriously, my father was forced into. a marriageand the lavender sucked head, in dreary smokestack columns, all underhis window. the sun was lowand always hot; the gardens sank and gasped,as if as if -- I was metallic lady Diana sat in permanent mourning or waiting or hoping. as a woman, I was alwaysdoing all… Continue reading poem: shire’s end

poem: writing camilla

he slept on the desk, in half-glacier grandsnow sweaters, the pine trees and cardinal birds, their throatsbright and ready! red, sloping down to his hands --big and masculine, and knotted up fromwriting her, sad long letters; when the day swept to a small close, the trees leaning in, snow falling off and conjoining; he slept… Continue reading poem: writing camilla

poem: psychology of a paris review or new yorker tote bag

she looks like every other bitch; she is readingThe Secret History, and I wrote in the back of Normal People -- if you read too much at one time, yourchest hurts; and I also filled out the Geriatric depression Scale in the back pages, like that asshole Connor did, in shuffling masturbatory pencil. LOVE toreme… Continue reading poem: psychology of a paris review or new yorker tote bag

poem: I could die? a footnote?

or: "aesthetic irl"thirty day poetry challengeday 09– ‘goals‘ the plead tweed coats, manufactured in England or Bangladesh, and ink-on-fingers, cigarettes. leaves Rattling againstthe gothic, heavy windows because what else? /how do I describe James Joyceand Virginia Wolf: like readingemotions. reading the old novels, in cafes(because what else?); the middle-class, they kept writingabout God, now we… Continue reading poem: I could die? a footnote?

poem: small human memories

thirty day poetry challengeday 08– ‘all gone‘the marionette, the circus trouser-smile and the manwith no face: all gone, except what might come upat tea-time or during the screaming,between sex: when she explains I was, he was, he was; and whoever is there to listen,listens, or maybe does not -- that is the signof the times,… Continue reading poem: small human memories

poem: muse for hire, installation piece

thirty day poetry challengeday 07– ‘cable‘ cable: the night-time, and my mother sayscome back quickly do not let the rung-down beesand sleepers biteoff your testosterone, keep it quiet in the back of your girl-neck, bending overthe wash and the laundry like we arethe first people, the streaks and the lemonade rocks billowing up insideus; do… Continue reading poem: muse for hire, installation piece