POETRY
“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
The two of us toast to a man we both love, to whatever degree, clink our glasses and laugh…
I buy too much, for someone of my stature.
could pawn a skinny metaphor to purchase a plump skin.
its reputed in our lineage— to daydream a life that shreds our pockets.
I imagine that undressing a color, though, would be so much like peeling a memory away from the grey and the white matter of your brain.
In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers,
my back a misguided quote
Okay, picture this: We’re in an elevator. The elevator shuts down. It doesn’t matter where we’re going, only that we’re alone.
here is the sky in stop motion, flickering,
a still shot in monochrome
I like to think I’m also sprung,
released from the furnace knocks,
done with the heavy meat stews
and salty soups.
I tap at the alphabet while a single deer
taps at the dirt beyond the brush
on the far side of the tree line.
Yes I am guilty, I’m guilty. A sin was desirable then.
Bring the dancer back to the stalks.
Try not to see your own predicament in every fucking thing.
Dylan Krieger’s poetry is unflinching, grotesque, and beautiful. Her work tackles trauma, wrestles authority, and is a decadent sonic feast.