Poem of the Week

Voice: “Is that bump in any language?”
Voice: “... deformed image... it is self-contained.”
Must be a poem.

... something unexpected, full of foul humor.

As well as a ribbon,
a roar, a grace, a dialogue, a diary,
and an individual
act of disobedience, defiance of
whoever comes to mind

I can’t keep writing
can hardly remember my dreams now

Have I fed anyone.
Have I changed Your image of what a poem might be
and so, in some part, changed “reality.”

Monday morning, jackhammers

then in the interstitial space
between interior dark and matter-of-fact light
if I open the windows in either wall, can day and night blend.
A strange, a tossing ghostly seawater effect
in which I’m enveloped, just sitting
drowning in it...

They call your work “engaging” when
A) you’re a woman
                            and

B) it doesn’t conform to prescribed
models of pomposity or obfuscation
rather, “talks.”

“Engaging” is an asshole word,
not quite as obnoxious a cliche as “ground-breaking.”