Poem of the Day
hand-to-hand pass
By Simone White
while the palms touch and digits suggestively link
so movement of the hands of each
does occur
while the palms touch and digits suggestively link
so movement of the hands of each
does occur
In a land where you will go but from where you will never return,
Little Black Cricket, you’ll follow music inside a mountain
with the other children. Then the rock will be sealed
I took the skin of my twin for a jacket,
pulled it along my legs as stockinettes,
pocketed its bones and fat in my side
Biggest fish I will ever see,
men caught you
and hung your death
Cultivating people can be arduous,
With results as uncertain as weather.
Try oysters, meerkats, turnips, mice.
Ate stew, shot a man,
Bandy body spraddled, so full of lead
Cabron can’t even walk uphill.
Honest-to-god color, god said, for artists.
But first, graveyards, to grind the human femur
in secret, for bone black. And cuttlefish
I woke up thinking abouy my brothr’s body.
That q That was my first bit of early morning typing
So the first dignity, it turns out, is to get the spelling right.
on Greenwich Avenue
staring down Jane Street
into the sunset
The radiation machine
didn’t hum. The lights in the room dimmed.
Rads went through my chest
without a word.
A pity the selfsame vehicle that spirits me away from
factories of tedium should likewise serve to drag
me backwards into panic, or that panic should erect