Everyone

dies (semi-colon)
Amy Winehouse, my grandmother

even the Son of God.

Every death should mark

a holy day

a wonderment

and suddenly you find yourself

eyes fixed on the ceiling

with a bruised knee

wondering what -

all the self-fuss 
was ever about.

"This love is like a drop in the ocean

Take this Heart and make it break"

U2  -Yaweh

to build a temple there
without floor, roof candle bed
mind into window

spit image, means to some end
in echelon ion
where ladder = knuckle

why knot thus: so as
upon a time once phoenix in fact
halcyon elude hatchet

“in this yard
—you could break your neck
looking at a star”
        —Ronald Johnson, out of “ARK 70, Arches IV” (ARK, 1996)

I Fell For

The big gesture

talk of friendship

clandestine hand offering
shakes in the dark

all the phone calls

sand-scrawled letters

such blue sky eyes

your worn chair in shadows

all the comings

goings

all the understandings

misunderstandings

over all the miles

mixed up years

slanted horizons

various pets, spouses

I bought it all
my head in the dream sands
with a hand full

of small change

Bobby

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

Bjork

Necessity Defense of Institutional Memory

So the free may remain free
     say the nightmare is
     the dream
so we are preserved
     he who believes takes a life
so a life may be saved
     the girl becomes an object
so the greatest devastation occurs
     let go her fingers    their slim cleave
so I may be replaced
by a machine    which in its violence    behaves
more like me
     the longer you live    the more these lies
     come alive
so the past splits in two:
     one stays in the past and dies
one past shapeshifts    walks with you.

CAMILLE RANKINE

An Old Star

An old star ripped a new hole

glared out from its peek-a-boo

curtain as if to say the audience

was too young and shallow to witness

such a surprise performance.

“Such a predictable thing”

we heard the stars chatter

“this sequel of earthly events.”

- Debbie Calverley

Kyrielle

29 ways to stay creative

Fifty People One Question

He Could Have Been

a truck driver.  Bono.

I'm just saying.

An ordinary guy in sunglasses
and a leather jacket

filling his truck with gas

under the bright yellow canopy

marked Shell.

He stands like he owns the joint

chin at a cocky angle

as if to say

bring it on.

The glasses hiding his real

smile 

an eye grin that speaks his joy

of the open road.

I wonder if he's on the road as much

as a rock star

if he sings while he drives

if his wife takes out the garbage

if his kids really know him

like he knows the road.

The light turns green

I've been staring.

He licks his lips

flashes a peace sign

as I pull away

reflected in the mirror

of his big black shades.

- Debbie Calverley

My Apocalypse

My Apocalypse

A woman writes to ask
how far along I am
with my apocalypse.
What will you give me
if I tell?
An origami fish
made from a dollar bill.
After the apocalypse,
we will all be in a band.
We will understand each other
perfectly.
             *
"It's alright" and
"It doesn't matter."
Let "it" stand
for nothing.
             *
A weathered, fleshy bicyclist
wearing bunny ears
and a tie-dyed shirt
says "Zoom"
as she coasts past

Rae Armantrout