POETRY

“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
—Rita Dove
“Artifact,” as Translated from Gluberhöff’s Lexicon

Any still figure at mid-late evening, when the long shadows make even crumbs appear arranged like furniture.

An Interview with Dylan Krieger

Dylan Krieger’s poetry is unflinching, grotesque, and beautiful. Her work tackles trauma, wrestles authority, and is a decadent sonic feast.

Getting Postcards From a Piano Showroom

The two of us toast to a man we both love, to whatever degree, clink our glasses and laugh…

Soft Porn and Cuban Pine

It recommended
soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent
to parent might calm and soothe the kid.

Sadness is a Sin

If my life was the size of my arm, I would stretch it out for you.

An Endeavor of Being Now

We stop doing dishes while
a mile unwinds
from the tree outside.

melting ice cap
blue is the color of surrender

you know that
baby swallows make silver ripples
in wild rivers to court reeds?

I could, even now, go down to the water

Even from this distance I could go out
the door it would bang shut and crumble

Electric Eels, Finishing School, Teeth

Millions of Americans have been affected by identity theft. It’s probably the greenhouse gases.

Finding My Fix

I slumped in front of a massive desk, a passive patient corroded with failure and dread.

if detritus is all i’m made up of

my love is a glass shard, a knife made of madness and moonlight,
and there are already way too many fragments in this house

Good Driver

Lights on the dashboard spell out
“You still can’t kiss me”

Fallout Shelter

I imagined a cascade of slow death for all / that mattered…

necromancer woman, witch woman

In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers,
my back a misguided quote

Pit Stop in Kansas

we drove on through
the blue seal of morning as the turbines
turned and winked out their hearts

3:17 AM as Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks

Part of being a good sad person
is always painting the shadows
in the right direction and knowing
what sorrow to art with.

Clueless & Briefly Gorgeous

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.

The love of my life moved from portland to new england

He has stories that I am not in
anymore. It’s healed this way.

robertson quay

how does an afternoon turn
on its axis?

appetites

you quit wearing pants
loaf around your yard
in hole-nipped panties