Thursday, November 2, 2017

Kerri Shying R # 349 real worlds

real worlds

this is the worst     time   pain 
she takes one side of the bed for her own  curls around the largest joint I got    bares shiny white enamel  and settles
into steady gnawing   this baby killer whale and me the teat of some mother
long left behind    I can’t grip   her
ocean  she slips
outside control   ill-spent time  when all you do is formulate a definition
it all comes out the same  I am pain the pain is me
it is in me on me it’s a she
we the we
  of this  our weld 
  a form of transport
  dedication to the art of going nowhere 
  the internet    of all my nothing
  makes it that much


  1. and a nowhere-going vessel
    bears its nothing cargo
    hurt to hurt - all oceans
    till the pill goes down
    till day dissolves
    till the nowhere-nothing's me


  2. #204

    Slam it
    judder it
    hard against
    the tunnel
    upside down it
    spinning scythes
    sleep well child
    a foreign mist
    zooms like Alice
    there is a hole
    avoids the blades
    anyway you want it
    there is a dream
    of chainmail
    strange songs
    why do you ask
    and who would you ask
    the everlasting tongue
    slides down the throat
    the private thing
    goes to work

  3. Dear Kerri, I hope to hear you read this poem and many other poems someday. I imagine your voice which I've never heard and Kristen's shouts, and Kristen reading because she wants to read too and your shouting. And me too please. All our fine voices joined somewhere again as they're joined here.

    1. Yes!!! All our voices reading, shouting, joined somewhere again - real worlds, lawless ones, wherever, whatever. Let it bleed!


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