again again again and howin muddy, half-trudged stepsregains the hold, the menfall— down— and i cannot complain. i have instead disorder, mindhell sparks, all orange-pillcontained. once, theydied in droves and now i die alone, on the upstairsbed my face againstthe shrills. you must know:he is not returning: heis not worth attention,deflection, call it crush— in… Continue reading poem: the battle of
Tag: poetry
poem: the queen’s gambit
midnight in the sixties, girl comesalive: narcotic smile between cigarette smoke and are you finished yet? oh, that is what it's supposedto feel like, don't stop. she is tight, squares, cocaine. madness in my blood like a mother,the psychosis hangingand fucking, dressed to drink,conquer, la femme fatale. the usual themes: what ami? what is family?… Continue reading poem: the queen’s gambit
poem: lady clane
woman who gracefully and sometimesgracelessly took us, an entirenation of squabbling super-market mums, plastic bags drooping sadlywith sunday roasts, potatoes readyto be pulled and plushed — and she sitsin front of the square tellycutting the vegetables and sometimes (shite!)her fingers, watching; lady clane ridesto the cathedral, smiling brightlyand shyly, lace lining her handsand skinny arms… Continue reading poem: lady clane
poem: for/against
to what degree are the romantics, the pin-addled girls in black/white deconstructedjumpsuit-jail-cell-dresses now allowedto take fruit, wine, a little foreign cheese— like the system,it is only half molded, they sayplayfully/carefully— out to the dregsof connecting countries:the border, very political, a greatgreen country best fitfor running hounds and sittingin tweed, reading, watching. you can smellit on… Continue reading poem: for/against
poem: the winter girl and the sunset boy
the winter has me wishingthat you and iwere still something; do you remember two years ago(two centuries of yesterday) i was desperate and drowningin idealism, in pacifiedanxiety, andglowing newintellectualism at midnight and dawnand also love poems, written for youmainly on the coffee datewe almost had:the old me, studying hard,too-hot latte in hot handscaffeine sparking slow… Continue reading poem: the winter girl and the sunset boy
poem: crying after a fight with my mother, twenty-twenty
in the autumn far-awayi read a portrait of the artist as a young manunder the trees, under the universityand i was notthe drama, the failure. waitingoutside the daycare, an after-somethingjob for the boring, earbuds and trite tragicmusic wrapped around my skull. i stayed very latein cafes, no-whip-cafe-mochaand scholarship questions, dreaminghopelessly and i — droppedthe history… Continue reading poem: crying after a fight with my mother, twenty-twenty
poem: all madness, no genius, pt. 1
two thousand 17;the aesthetic of this,it is like spring, the old suicide days, when the poemsdripped — no punctuation.music stuck spiral-likein my throat, the pulsing pulsingwonder: my chemical shitin the bathroom (before class)the animalism of no-onemeeting your eyes — I cannotwrite like thatanymore. The downsidesof friends, of making it. two thousand 19/20;remember the chemical swings,the… Continue reading poem: all madness, no genius, pt. 1
poem: berlin reparations (meditations in quarantine)
a before-i-die listfor the after:a faux jewish girlstanding in lattice shadow—the town-squarein café colors,un-expressed dims. because weare a dream, the Eiffel Toweris a historical shadowabove; the girlleans against. she is smoking—pivotally, the ash blurring upwards,the ash of other peoplenot her people; she cannot makechallah bread, the necessary prayers;her body is woundin riot history: her peopleare… Continue reading poem: berlin reparations (meditations in quarantine)
poem: my grandmother’s (mystical) first love
he was the type of boyi dreamed about saving —a pretty wraith, oddly colored:black hair, black eyes — a mad rememberingbetween us, when i satin the soft shitting yellowof his apartment, his facerewording, compressing—like a poem in the physical actof being written, movingquickly backwards, the meaningskittering over itselfwith braver, bolder attempts.he was the spirit hung… Continue reading poem: my grandmother’s (mystical) first love
poem: the critical reading of innocents
the rising, falling, rollicking –what is american, what is americanliterature: they sit on stools,with feet tucked, crossedat the ankles, girls with milkshakesmiles, whipped-cream eyes –they are the Far and Away, gloryfalling like boys in foreign fields, writing homewriting mothers – i miss youi love you, i will be back.the people reading the bookshave missed it… Continue reading poem: the critical reading of innocents
