Endangered bees rage in the wisteria.
Loss of pollinators and their honey—
that gold soup made of sex and light.
“XI (What If One Has To Go On)” Anne Marie Macari She Heads Into the Wilderness
gold soup made of sex and light
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Tag Archives: Great Poems or Pieces Thereof
We met in a strange world
…We met in a strange world, in a frenzy.
A spiral of ups and downs.
Didn’t I feel the lit orb, inside and out?
Later, I returned to the calcium
of loneliness, the fine shell spotted and cracked,
and the delicate thing ticking inside.
from “Certain Sparrow” Anne Marie Macari, She Heads into the Wilderness
Sonnet
Sonnet
Terrance Hayes
from Hip Logic
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
We sliced the watermelon into smiles.
Feeling Fucked Up
Feeling Fucked Up
Etheridge Knight
Lord she’s gone done left me done packed / up and split
and I with no way to make her
come back and everywhere the world is bare
bright bone white crystal sand glistens
dope death dead dying and jiving drove
her away made her take her laughter and her smiles
and her softness and her midnight sighs—
Fuck Coltrane and music and clouds drifting in the sky
fuck the sea and trees and the sky and birds
and alligators and all the animals that roam the earth
fuck marx and mao fuck fidel and nkrumah and
democracy and communism fuck smack and pot
and red ripe tomatoes fuck joseph fuck mary fuck
god jesus and all the disciples fuck fanon nixon
and malcolm fuck the revolution fuck freedom fuck
the whole muthafucking thing
all i want now is my woman back
so my soul can sing
What She Was Wearing
What She Was Wearing
Denver Butson
this is my suicide dress
she told him
I only wear it on days
when I’m afraid
I might kill myself
if I don’t wear it
you’ve been wearing it
every day since we met
he said
and these are my arson gloves
so you don’t set fire to something?
he asked
exactly
and this is my terrorism lipstick
my assault and battery eyeliner
my armed robbery boots
I’d like to undress you he said
but would that make me an accomplice?
and today she said I’m wearing
my infidelity underwear
so don’t get any ideas
and she put on her nervous breakdown hat
and walked out the door
Lucinda Lyric Interlude
Because this song has gotten me through some rough spots in the past. Because it just popped up on Ipod shuffle. Because it is a great example of syntax and line being simultaneous. Because, if you are someone who deserves it, this song kicks your ass.
“Changed the Locks”
Lucinda Williams
I changed the lock on my front door so you can’t see me anymore
And you can’t come inside my house, and you can’t lie down on my couch
I changed the lock on my front door
I changed the number on my phone so you can’t call me up at home
And you can’t say those things to me that make me fall down on my knees
I changed the number on my phone
I changed the kind of car I drive so you can’t see me when I go by
And you can’t chase me up the street, and you can’t knock me off of my feet
I changed the kind of car I drive
I changed the kind of clothes I wear so you can’t see me anywhere
And you can’t spot me in a crowd, and you can’t call my name out loud
I changed the kind of clothes I wear
I changed the tracks underneath the train so you can’t find me again
And you can’t trace my path, and you can’t hear my laugh
I changed the tracks underneath the train
I changed the name of this town so you can’t follow me down
And you can’t touch me like before, and you can’t make me want you more
I changed the name of this town
I changed the lock on my front door, I changed the number on my phone
I changed the kind of car I drive, I changed the kind of clothes I wear
I changed the tracks underneath the train, I changed the name of this town
I changed the name of this town
I changed the name of this town
Natasha Trethewey
from Native Guard, a book that, as a whole, is about looking back at oneself, seeing reflections that are real and reflections that are twisted. Look at what she does in this poem, only a few pages after a poem about Narcissus.
______________
Myth
I was asleep while you were dying.
It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow
I make between my slumber and my waking,
the Erebus I keep you in, still trying
not to let go. You’ll be dead again tomorrow,
but in dreams you live. So I try taking
you back into morning. Sleep-heavy, turning,
my eyes open, I find you do not follow.
Again and again, this constant forsaking.
*
Again and again, this constant forsaking:
my eyes open, I find you do not follow.
You back into morning, sleep-heavy, turning.
But in dreams you live. So I try taking,
not to let you go. You’ll be dead again tomorrow.
The Erebus I keep you in—still, trying—
I make between my slumber and my waking.
It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow.
I was asleep while you were dying.
Try to Praise the Mutilated World
Try to Praise the Mutilated World
Adam Zagajewski
Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June’s long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
You’ve seen the refugees heading nowhere,
you’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earth’s scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the grey feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes
and returns.
Translated by Renata Gorczynski
Ciscernos “You Like to Give and…”
one of my sister-poets was reading a collection of erotic/love poems by Sandra Ciscernos. I opened it and found this. And another I really loved that was just too long to copy out by hand. I gotta go buy the book now to have it for myself. The Spanish words should have accent marks I’ve not yet learned enough HTML to create. Soon, really.
You Like to Give and Watch Me My Pleasure
Sandra Ciscernos
You like to give and watch me my
pleasure. Machete me in two.
Take for the taking what is yours.
This is how you like to have me.
I’m as naked as a field of cane,
as alone as all of Cuba
before you.
You could descend like rain
destroy like fire
if you chose to.
If you chose to,
I could rise like hurracan.
I could erupt as sudden as
a coup d’etat of trumpets,
the sleepless eye of ocean,
a sky of black urracas.
If I chose to.
I don’t choose to.
I let myself be taken.
The power is my gift to you.
The Lesbian Bears
The Lesbian Bears
Martha Courtot
here they have not heard of lesbian bears
if they knew they would be afraid
they would form a vigilante party
to hunt wild perverse bear in the mountains
at night while they slept in the open
they would dream of unnatural acts
in brown fur
a female bear would come
wrapping her lustful arms around the bodies
of all the women
then they too would be lost
is this where lesbians come from?
I have seen lesbian plums which cling to each other
in the tightest of monogamous love
and I have watched lesbian pumpkins
declare the whole patch their playground
profligate and dusky
their voices arouse something in us
which is laughing
ah, everything is lesbian which loves itself
I am lesbian when I really look in the mirror
the world is lesbian in the morning and the evening
only in mid-afternoon does it try to pretend otherwise
and when the lesbian wind flutters the leaves
of the bright lesbian trees
sending golden shudders of delight
through the changing lesbian light
the sound which is returned to you
is only an echo of your own lesbian nature
admit it you too would like to love yourself
and each other
now, while the vigilantes
wander the mountains
now is the perfect time
embrace the one nearest to you woman or child
apricot, salmon, artichoke, cow
embrace yourself
This Frenzy 