Promised Lands
I saw you last on Hestia’s hill head high, solemn and waxed in weightpaste, holding the Olympic flare defiantly over the valley— its firelight, bright in marble-star night, falling softly on matted grass, its kindling sparks like flies in measle-blotch blisters and hives upon the scarfaced sca
Between Courses
A hangnail drags Beneath swigs of light, strings of wine On a shared table; joists Pierce through junk emails Into the cul-de-sac we cycled around Every night. The cutlery has been arranged So carefully. Silver ribbons Fasten my hair into a war of attrition Between what is and what should have been
when Rumi came to the Oxford Union
a report in ten Onegin stanzas In Konya’s streets, with great fanfare, A letter came to pomp and show Its waxy seal a bold affair, Dispatched to the Rumi château. But oh, its trip—a tragic jest— Attar’s proud bird, who failed the test, Dropped cargo o’er a random dune, Then off it
khaal baccha
A standard farming practice wherein a baby is starved, stuffed, and returned to its mother. Her body releases oxytocin and is forced to produce milk. When a calf dies quick they gather up the limbs and bring it in. Hidden from the moon they unstitch the body from groin to throat. They
In St James
In St James I lay sun-brushed and smothered; The seeping day flowed beneath the midday Air, the slow June sky hung high above, Spreading swimming shadows about My feet. The multrees whispered as away – Far away – their branches and furrowed leaves Brushed felted rushes. They spoke
Firsts
The first draft is almost always completely scrapped, reworded, reworked, refined, crumpled, torn up, and tossed away. The first pancake never turns out quite right–– does the first child? Everyone remembers their firsts: first steps, first kiss, first love, the first man on the moon. N
Three Movements
I: Allegro Scherzando in the stalls i was sitting with her (not she) while she (not her) sat high in the gods with a fairly mid-looking boy, despite which she kept looking at me through movements iv and v and though i saw her see me, never did i see her see me see her, […]
BEFORE THE CLOCK STRIKES TWENTY
o ambition! o hand of fate! here’s a deal: my girlhood for the rest of my life. pat me on the head, lead me into the woods, then either shoot me or shake my hand. i’ve made it this far––i’ve tricked you this far–– i’ve sat and stayed and obeyed this far–– i’ve not asked [&hel
The Flip Side – Editing the Archives
The flip side when Everything is a film and the Kodak squares overlap Sunlight on railing legs and you cross the road without pressing the button *pause breath birds wind cars* light headed head y d a z e w h e […]
