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Re: The Dark Clicks On
WILD FIRE The kingfishers catch fire— they bring their wings against a scarred-up canopy. Every hut is a thatch of matches and economy of common howls. The heart, lately, distrusts ...
Apr 21, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
EVERY RIVEN THING “Those blessed to survive wrote their poetry not after such experiences but in their aftermath” -Carolyn Forché I don't even know where it hurts anymore. My wounds ...
Apr 16, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
SEASON I scrap my elaborate trap and start over. I set my dogs after it. I come back to you mouthing something that once had meat on it. After yanking ...
Apr 14, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
THRESHOLD At this threshold of proxy, I am running out of doubles to thrust into traffic— brutes I've battered into blossoming. I am unsurprised by budding or rented thrums. What ...
Apr 14, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
UNRIPE It all rots in the safest spot. My skin veers off into bangs at the bend in the year, shit-spent on the sleeve and the shoulder. I come dropping ...
Apr 12, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD I am beginning to become your blouse, each button vying for a push through the slit then stuck at the neck like a dog ...
Apr 10, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
VARIATIONS ON A HOLY CITY WITHOUT YOU Your streets are scorched with gold. Palaces remain unsundered from other palaces. By this I mean your tits are bored with gold, and ...
Apr 9, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
BEARING THE HEART Our only real hope: the elegist can't hang himself. Bees will not come for the flesh of this left out wretch. Dogs will not pad to worry ...
Apr 8, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
BAPTISM Washed of sight, the way a day's work rubs right off. A green river without a mouth— the bodies burning for a second douse. I've taken to bottling mud ...
Apr 7, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
HOLY LANCE "We dipped the blossom in the batter and fried and ate it." - Bruce Smith There's a shyness to being heaven- bound, crowded with a summer's-worth of scars, ...
Apr 7, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
DEVOTION: QUENTIN TARANTINO Blood is an intellectual thing— it strips the room of its color. Two stylized swords skirt through the clamp of meat on the shoulder. Stuck but falling ...
Apr 5, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
BALM She is running to anoint me— fats and oils for the shoulder blade some rub that would glisten on a mother, glycerins and rosewater in holes of gumming clover. ...
Apr 5, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
REAL PRESENCE “Touch, however, is a language to believe.” —Evan Zimroth, 'Notes toward a Semiology of Dance' Only porn or church can come of this: the slang of grace and ...
Apr 3, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
RE-RECORDED I hear part of some laughter on an old recording: a scratch of joy. A thin city siren caught there too, far away as a snagged string from your ...
Apr 2, 2012 -
Re: The Dark Clicks On
SACRAMENT Pallets of peaches are winched up. The heavy cream goes in throes and throngs. Ascend a staircase of salt: O luckless meat, knowing spices are linked to other spices ...
Apr 1, 2012