no jump
scare
this losing
of child
to sheepish
math
how priest-like
my father is, the biter
of his own
breast, in the church
of my sister’s
bluer
moon
edited, slightly
while covering my mouth with a bruise from the robot’s vision board, I wheel our son past a group of seven men arguing the age gap between the first and last immortal and remind myself to appreciate the comic timing of those who move freely from one diaper change to the next without putting a small toe to their lips and I forgive them their privacy and their resting arms and I forgive them for believing absence is a straight line and for the one pair of clothes they don’t have to wear because god is a bad kisser and like that I am lost like no hand that’s been laid upon the chair of this frail evangelist
reflection, on: Third-Millennium Heart – poetry – Ursula Andkjær Olsen, translated by Katrine Øgaard Jensen
Third-Millennium Heart – poetry – Ursula Andkjær Olsen, translated by Katrine Øgaard Jensen
I say
to my brother
the word
dog
in another
language
I wonder
does it know
does the dog
(does the language)
make doll
grow
is there another
doll
and is it
starving
on sooner
foods
is the gun
to its head
all part
of the dog
the being
of my brother’s
there
thru March 12th, Lulu is offering free mail shipping (or 50% off ground) with coupon code of SHIPIT2018
poetry collections, mine, self-published, are here: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/acolyteroad
~
some recent poems:
[gut musics]
walking
a blank
stretch
to rival / the disappearing /
wilderness
of starvation
/ the bride
of reflection
with her dog
made of sticks
~
[motel variance]
fuck am I to do
boy
with a resurrected
moth
–
her decoy’s
clock
distracted
by time, she swims
to have
no ghost
–
on tv
the carpenter
dies
we adjust
his tinfoil
hat
–
cleaning
is in
the blood
let them think
~
[repast]
god as the complete
thought
I shared
with death…
skull
short
for squirrel
~
[from a letter to my body]
when there are no mothers, I will crawl toward the one sitting with what her legs couldn’t burn and I will ask my blood to be…
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reflection of Adrenalin by Ghayath Almadhoun at ~ isacoustic* ~:
a reflection on Rae Hoffman Jager’s One Throne at ~ isacoustic* ~
boy
(whose blood
is a fairy tale
kept
in his brain)
(who sees himself
reciting
for threesomes
the denial
of peter)
has his mother
cut the gum
from his hair
kingsoftrain 