Poetry – Year VI – Number 49 – June 2021

Seánce with Fernando Pessoa 1. I, I, I, I… or should I say “we”we know the Anglo-Saxon mindthat desperately seeks and seeks to findthe Truth behind ambiguity. Do we not know the black/white of your thoughts?Did we...

Bloodletting Bloodletting,but for the rage. If I cut open my chestsurely all that will come out is the rage, spilling down my frontlike vomit or molten lava. If I hold it in any longerthe fever will kill me, and...

Alabaster Polish Short admonition ableSpiritual like purity abolishBeautiful veined alabaster polishDeliberate lie whit cableLady her self-setting the tableUnmistakably evidenced demolishedWoman’s softly feathered face polishedGentle a high degree of fable Sonnet CDXXXII Mingling error remembered by chiefShe likes...

Bird Brained View of Power for John Bolton I have not journeyed here to steal anythingfrom your domain,least of all, your modest nest, which, I am at pains to point outis far beyond the skill of any...

Coming Out head-first, blood-slickedhair like a tiny John Stamos.Bubbling with style but no pronouns. Snip the umbilical, suctionand wail, count tenfingers and toes but no sex. The womb was mycloset, sonogram spunstraw into a golden child. No mom-we-need-to-talk...

Old Paint Colors Before he died, we shared a common history.The slow unfurling of breath, a womb, twohands, a tapestry of goodbyes in sepia. Aplacenta, grey, buried under the pine-straw of winter. So many sad things...

Dollhouse I saved the dollhousefor you and you knew ityou knewcoming in the back doorbabies played cheapwe bought it off the streetrich folks' castaway that's why we saved itnot for cheapbut for babiesyour childrenmore than onewith...

GASLIGHTINGNothing can be found hereThere is no space to growThe walls are moving closerI don’t know where to goUp is to the leftExcept when it’s to the rightOutside the sun is shiningBut in here...

Vespers Update In this season, the sun setslike an afterthought, its lightalready non-luminous. The hills mostly murkwith some leftover mauvethat’s gone flat. But Venus burns a holein the West, intenseand more adamant than ever.** January 31st 1.The sun through...

BirdingThey are raven-like, dark-wingedmoving toward a tangled nest or like crows circlingseeking their own kindagainst a fog-ivory sky, the outline is interleaved with comingsand goingsbirds-eye criesflybysof brush-wingsodors from mudhush-hushswigsoffrenzied redbut now, as I stop and sit,...