Poetry

Fish fry. Lent day. Say grace. Amen. Eat good. Eat lots. Rich laugh. Honeyed. Moonshine. Mud cake. Cookout. Kinfolks. Deep fried. Pig feet. Pig lips. Pig tails. Blood test. Big pills. Small pills. Blood stream. Sickhouse. No salt. No salt. Eat salt. Prick thumb. Draw blood. No salt. Eat salt. Kidneys. Blood clots. Put away. …

In Vancouver I ran on icyroads each morning, then stood in the shower, scalding, thoughtof slipping. I watched the kettle til my eyes teared up,the light blurring, I made instant coffee, drove south through the redwoods, embarrassed by words, their poverty: rocks in the water like petrified whales; Joni Mitchell; sweet grapes on the passenger …

bold in bright green with yellow accents, industrial orange. To afford it, you mortgage your land, yourself. It rolls over your rich grasslands, harrowing your fields. The wild of you, marsh bunnies, garter snakes, try to skitter away, end up bloody and macerated, mowed. Mulch, microbes, the dirt of you tossed, turned to be replanted. …

Tonight, rain drapesthe blue acacia & the streetlights shimmer, shroudthe cars in shadows. My sick, who calls herself daughter, points at how the blossoms curl to cocoonsthen commit themselves to air. She wantsto know wherethe scavengers take them,& why at nightwhen her name emerges, they come so closeshe could reach a hand, stroke their knotted …

I mean, let’s face it: I am not the easiest person to love. When I was a child I crashed my father’s radio after my foot got tangled with the cable having jumped over it like the cow did with the moon. Hey diddle diddle, come here you little shit, and soon my legs were …

You’re still barefoot in the creek as crawdads scuttle under rocks.You’re in the kitchen too, dogunderfoot as oil swirls in a pan. You’re in the treehouse cradling a library book, peeling a sunburn.You prune the lupine, deadhead sage, pull weeds up by the roots. You float the swimming hole, too scared of leeches to put …

Today I rest, brimming with purple.I press down on the tendernessa minor note tumbles out. The needle, earlier, like a mirrora window. I count the cloudson the band-aid. I countmy reflections in the mirror. In Tucson we drink absinthewhile Chris reads my tarot cards,something about another life,and leaving something behind. The bruise greens and I …

after Danez Smithon your doorstep, dolled up in new plaid pajamas (yes, the ones with the blue satin trim!) backpack in one hand, the other a fist unfurling with jelly cups or fruit candy.at the time, we only cared for the trappings of adulthood, so in between reruns of Inuyasha & monolid makeup tutorials on …

I want you to remember this where I live program the coordinates into your internal compassembed the the earth’s magnetic field onto your temporal lobe where time and space dwell as electricity shed your armor spell-cast bulletproofmarked with attempts on your lifeand tattoo a map onto your integumentof how to find melearn to navigate the …

Because the road will press a body into the pavement until it is washedin summer storms, I dragged the woodchuck’s rigid body to the shoulder with mullein leaves.We called them lamb’s-ear when we were young. Mammals,milk bred, the blackest soilmeans growth. These were dry and yellowed in the gravel ditch; not the scoop of remnantvalley …