Dustbowl – Rachel Kass
January 4, 2019
Epigenetic
curtailing physiology
away breath, red dome
the porous remembrance
in every stone
said,
the elevator closed, is this death?
snow falls in ash form, i
think of the ovens
of Beatrice
1944 Auschwitz
she visits me as
i bathe.
i cry blue water and she smiles,
says,
you can be your own.
reality doesn’t fit inside
a trapezoid or
one person’s mind
Love Alone
forearms in vase
skin tarp nerves on
left reactions discard in
blue saran wrap, greatest generation
second world war shrapnel,
humanity blame, male gaze battle fame
hold breath – pass graves,
oiled eye in hollow casket space
Meeting You Was Like Meeting Me
“Heaven is precisely 18 inches in front of us”
The cabbie laced long fingers straight up
palm against the fuss, a transient wall.
“Humans, too stuck in the molasses of stigma
collectively carry a ripple effect,
thanks to fuck ups in roped burlap and fur
who took for granted
the apertures of our irises
20,000 years ago, I’m sure”
Now the must needs filling
it’s a passing fad
meeting the silence
that New Jersey cabbie had
Tired Circle for The Lost Remaining
sordid mishegas
ever womb
still flux
membrane confusion
if i agree with you, am i acceptable?
teething off warmth in
survivalist fantasies
sleep paralysis plumps
rubbing
rug-grass-wall- blanket-face-tight
internal nightmare fear lie
bruises in morning
the size of
something coming
Rocking Lair
doubt lines
winking past
future truth
desire hide
throat tight
as signal
majesty
of cold nights
between catharsis
breath
Storm in a Glass of Water
tired of telling myself
positive thoughts i don’t feel
rewired brain
sincere
the right way is lost the right way is not
a way at all the right way will cost the right way is
however i begin to begin with
Get Your Shit Together
tinged finger spider fried
green seams tearing
down center of sternum
overflowing. where
is a feeling
i only dream
stained covering over
nocturnal regarding
myself
without the turned key