POETRY

“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
—Rita Dove
Dear Deer in the Compost Pile

I tap at the alphabet while a single deer
taps at the dirt beyond the brush
on the far side of the tree line.

Hollywood Hills
the remarkable thing

I am still waiting for the lion

Soft Porn and Cuban Pine

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

The Kotel in Jerusalem is Filled with Cracks

We found in his suitcase T-shirts, his siddur, gifts he bought for his grandchildren…

Dis Place Ment

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

The River

I myself should never have been born

Lavandula

Listen to me: I know
the winter gloom in
mid-summer…

Condolences

my friends’ fathers are
dropping
I mean dying
like flies

A Way of Seeing

Just starlight and some small scribbling across vinyl.

Finding My Fix

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

On the Night Row-Houses Across the Street Catch Fire

You let the yellow glow
from eye sockets. The building up the street
is burning faster and faster.

painting of apple and grapes
Feast Of

anger, like you can sink teeth into, candy apple

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.

I Garden at the Edge of Autumn

There is so little left of the tomato plants.

heavy rain
The Plot

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

My Multiverses

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

close up of sun
Mercury in Retrograde

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

Going Broke

Winter sat like a wolf
on the horizon.

The Man

the man is stayed bent over the canvas
of my sofa. the man is me the man is him
self and I bring down the whip…

books
Ode To the Dove Pt. V (Avrom Sutzkever)

I am still waiting for the lion