POETRY

“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
—Rita Dove
Making Israeli Salad

Now that the Israeli has left, it falls
on me to make the salad.

A Beautiful Thing

I want to roll in this moment until I become its vocabulary
until I smell like the bones
until I am its echo…

My Multiverses

It is the 70s. 1970s? 2570s? Who knows?
Audre and I have a penthouse in New York.

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…

Hollywood Hills
the remarkable thing

I am still waiting for the lion

Me and Other Bodily Accessories

I am not a guide
for every traveler
of loss.

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

Dis Place Ment

People have always coped with flooding, and they learned to cope with death.

Several someones

a folksome, gruesome opera
of gauze and malcontent.

I Garden at the Edge of Autumn

There is so little left of the tomato plants.

Clotheslines

Ma wrings
a wet world
of colors

[Zoetrope with Particulates in it and a Newborn]

and then her eyes fully opened — blazed through with strands of mud

Finding My Fix

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

The Body is a Sin

The sin is existing.

Letter To a Young Poet

Do not say anything anybody else has said ever. Things are not “bleached by sun.”

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.

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.

things they won’t tell you but should:

love is a soggy tea stain on a grocery receipt

Poem in Collaboration with a Broken iPhone

I’msorry I‘ll see what happens iLife

Sadness is a Sin

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