Just after the new year, I will be unveiling the very first in the 2017 zine series--this little book of Dali-inspired poems. I talk a little bit more about this series, here., but below is a little sampling of what I've been up to.
little blue dog song no. 3
From this vantage point, all the animals are on fire. All the women piled with armfuls of broken statues and blood on their lips. I do not know what the horsewomen say when their nerves spit and zing. The inevitable movement of their hands to their mouths cupped with water. Only, that I’m speaking in metaphor, in metaphysics, the slick tongue of a butterfly in a jar. Only that I laugh, because I could die laughing here, with all the singed hair and the water rising way too slow. From this vantage point, I could turn my face away from him, but there is something terrible at my elbow. It pinches my wings and sings me to sleep.
