POETRY

“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
—Rita Dove
woman at bar
After She Told Me You Pushed Her Down the Stairs

Empty vessels
make the most sound, I think,
as you rip the fairy lights off the handrail.

Pit Stop in Kansas

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

i do not want to wait until it’s too late

the strands of your hair on the bathroom tiles aren’t sketching defeat. that’s you spitting disease in the face with another day you’ve woken up to.

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.

First

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

Observer of the Patient

Her brown eyes,
how a fig
considers itself.

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.

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.

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…

The River

I myself should never have been born

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…

things they won’t tell you but should:

love is a soggy tea stain on a grocery receipt

Going Broke

Winter sat like a wolf
on the horizon.

Drowning in sky

I have observed, the theorist
I am

Back Suplex

Gravel-scatted hell &
we were blessed to be able
to hold on for even a heartbeat

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.

Willpower

Live the rest of your life
from one worst case to another.

There is an alternative universe

Ghosts for hire, whispers in her mouth,
cysts to feel, the symmetry of a gift.

close up of sun
Mercury in Retrograde

You said it was okay to blame
what goes wrong on the planet