Scuttled poem—
was called “Golf Cart”
Something about
Golf Cart Stage
Imperialism
ditched
in a pond.
Poem kicked off with
the cringe quatrain:
“All aboard!
here we go—
uh, little bit of a
puddle, here”
Poem
Features
Atlanta, USA
This is what it looks like. To be moving in
every direction at once.
Punching through July heat
I must have lost my keys. Kicked in the door
and locked it behind me. Another
Thin is in again, Georgia said when the boys left the table. When she said it, she leaned into J and let the words fall soft in the air, as though it were a secret.
It was never out.
It …
Read More
I want to start by saying that I am in love with someone who has a chronic illness.
I want to start by saying that I research fecal transplants, pituitary gland tumors, Lyme disease, ME/CFS, antibiotics, immune boosters, immunosuppressants, anti-fungal …
Read More
My Hematologist Listens to My Love Songs
As he daintily places the stethoscope on my skin.
First the heart, my left bundle branch block(ed) heart
where no electricity has seen the light of day.
His breath is fig-marmalade sweet.
Winterberries
I’m sorry says the doctor with his finger inside me. I’m sorry says my shimmering body. Green penny. Sunlit fish. The lights gallop inside from wherever they went. The only way forward is through. And the only …
Read More
after Brigit Pegeen Kelly
The eye was open, and wide, and writhed in a wretched way,
Not as a marble would roll out of a child’s hand, no, it writhed
Like a worm would away from its halved self.
Poetry
Symbolon; Balaklava; Album amicorum; & Devotional Image and Eating-Paper, translated from the German by Monika Cassel
Devotional Image and Eating-Paper
My prettiest dress will one day
be worn by another my hip would then be
as her husband would tell her just a
little curve in the mirror legs under
silk he says do
[The abject] is simply a frontier, a repulsive gift that the Other, having become alter ego, drops so that the “I” does not disappear in it but finds, in that sublime alienation, a forfeited existence.
—Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror: …
Read More