Through My Memory of Their Eloquence in the third trimesteryour handsvein and swelllike tree swallows A love poem. Pure and simple. I can’t wait for you to read the whole thing. And now we’ve come to the final fountain pen. I’ve got a couple of other interesting writing implements to
Because of Our Zeal cause humanbodies are bad at reproducing our desireslurk between the sheetscaused missed carriages onlyhappen to other heroines We’re starting to get into it now. This is the first of a few pregnancy and birth poems that cluster around the emotional pivot of the book. This is
What We Require Above All Else about the negate ives inside every thing a s now flake toois built around an ab cess sencea little hole you can putstuff in to I will admit that I had a lot of fun writing this book. One of the earliest creative decisions
TO BUSY MYSELF IN YOUR SERVICE a bag of ketchup chips emptilylies on the couch beside you baby likes ketchupyou smile your red face smear sticky fingers waveat my armload of clothes now move you’re inmy way & the Vikings are thrashing the Packers Finally, some sun! I’m not sure
HOW OUR FATHER IS FAVOURED by this endless fractal expansion of knowledgewe must patiently submit ourselves (9-2) to the will I have discovered a shortcoming in the WordPress content editor: there is no easy way to insert a bit of superscript text into a paragraph. You’ll note on the worksheet
CONJECTURE HERE AMONG SHADOWS a month of hungry man my brotherand I eating on the black and whitebridge of the Enterprise in our livingroom at TV trays dad sat in hisLa-Z-Boy we were Sulu and Chekova sober Captain Kirk behind us This is one of the poems I’m not going
THE MALICE OF MY PERSECUTORS give me the coelacanththe trilobite the primoridalmuck give me anything but Again with another word one doesn’t get to write very often: “Coelacanth.” Such a fantastic near mythical, word! The irony of such a beautiful combination of phonemes describing something so terrifying. so ancient, so…primoridal.
OBSERVANT EXECUTRIX OF GOD’S COMMAND there is no mortarwithout pestle How may times have you written the word “Executrix” or any word with the suffix “-ix”? For a few drafts, this poem was little more than these two lines. The final version did end up exploring this a bit further
IN THE VERY FACE OF THE SUN when you get to the end of all thisyou’ll look back and know this is the pointthe quality of miracles isn’twhat it used to be All of the poems in this collection took their direction from their titles. Some of the poems in
TO HAVE THE TRUTH SEEN AND RECOGNIZED. sideways six hoursfrom noon this light this latefall sunset lasts halfthe day This poem was originally published in an anthology of writing about landscape. Where you live determines your experience of light. I grew up in a mountain mining town at the end
Lunatic Engine 