Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

Poem 16, Raphael Matto

In poetry, Raphael Matto on July 31, 2011 at 2:21 pm

Yes, there is dark matter here on Earth.

There’s dark matter in my basketball
(we fill our tires with it). There is a little
in number 2 pencils, pupils,
and under the doormat (that’s why
I can’t hear you from the garden).

The librarian is mostly dark matter —
she tends the large patch
hanging over the gas station
(sometimes birds fly into it).

There’s dark matter in the pills
cardiologists prescribe,
in my cousin’s yellow lunchbox,
(her mouse-hole),
the sink in the girls bathroom,
and our dusty math books.

Simon’s dad stamps it off his boots.

There’s dark matter in the reflection
of my co-worker’s wedding ring,

which has us both
taking careful steps backward.


The Voyage – Catalogue of Daydreams – Valentina

In cross, dramatic, fiction, nonfiction, poetry, Valentina Charalambides, visual on July 31, 2011 at 10:00 am

if then, Marina Blitshteyn

In Marina Blitshteyn, poetry on July 31, 2011 at 9:07 am

Last Post, Ruby Brunton

In poetry, Ruby Brunton on July 31, 2011 at 5:47 am

Goodbye my friends, I’ve got to go.
Thank you for being here on this,
the last
but hopefully the beginning of
many more times together

Before you,
wore my eyeballs on my fingertips
looking, but not really seeing

Before you,
crushed up gold dust and tried to eat it
but it just got stuck in my teeth

Last night
took a bus to a party in Kew
these two little Latin goddesses
threw their bodies at the audience
A flamenco dancer stamped her feet
then the drummers lifted our feet
higher and higher
until they crashed back down
one after the other.
People asked me, “What do you do?”
I said, “I write”
for the first time.

You are beautiful,
we’ll be seeing each other again soon.

this progress, Marina Blitshteyn

In Marina Blitshteyn, poetry on July 30, 2011 at 11:27 pm

Six sort of haikus, Ruby Brunton

In poetry, Ruby Brunton on July 30, 2011 at 3:32 am

Black candle wax splatters
make a nice pattern on the wall
won’t get my bond back, though


Yesterday all my cash was
stolen by another employee
That’s ok – it’s just money


Dear Muslim girl across,
The way you’ve tied your scarf around
your head is beautiful


Tiny drops of rain fall
luckily I have an umbrella
but my washing doesn’t


The thought of going to the
supermarket is unbearable
I will have toast for dinner


Miss Erykah Badu
you make everything you are in
that little bit better

Three images from a butoh slow-walk, Joan Fleming

In Joan Fleming, poetry on July 30, 2011 at 3:27 am


First of all,
there are farmers
on the fields
of your calves.
If you can’t feel them,
you are not walking
slowly enough.
Do not disturb them.
They have been working
all their lives.

Secondly, in your belly
is a dark swamp, murky
and full of secrets.
You have buried
many bodies there.
Can’t you hear them
singing? Are you
listening at all?

Thirdly, there are flowers
growing up and out
of your chest.
They are beautiful,
like all flowers are.
They bloom into
your face, their fragrance
rushes in your bloodstream.
These are the flowers
you will die
to feed the soil of.

With every step,
you breathe them in.

more from Summer Notebook of an Anonymous Girl, Marina Blitshteyn

In Marina Blitshteyn, poetry on July 30, 2011 at 2:24 am

Poem 15, Raphael Matto

In poetry, Raphael Matto on July 29, 2011 at 10:50 pm

The dog who saw color

Electrocuted by a cow fence —
chased by pain, Sam
crashes down the slope.

At rest, he reaches out,
holds a brown trunk with green leaves,
and stands, naked, scared,

spinning on the wheel, pushed
by long waves that wash
blues across his lobe, then reds —

phantoms only men should see.

The Menu – Catalogue of Daydreams – Valentina

In fiction, poetry, Valentina Charalambides on July 29, 2011 at 3:36 pm