Collective Unrest

 

Dolls

August 21, 2019

Forty three. The sell by date
of my body has expired. Luckily,
I haven’t been left on the shelf.
Someone took me out
of the wrapper a while ago.
There’s been some deterioration
of condition, scuff marks, dents.
My skin no longer acts
like it’s vacuum packed. My teeth
no longer neatly stacked in a row,
or pearly white. But that’s okay,
no one sees behind this demure smile.

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poem for anna akhmatova

August 14, 2019

she was a mighty song from the earth she was flesh breath desire she was the sky a shroud dark towers like teeth graves without coffins coffins without the earth she was love turned sideways into truth

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The Spirit of A War Sleeps Beneath My Skull

August 7, 2019

(For Biafra) Separated by a wall of forty-nine years, I had no true feel of the war. No memory of what could have been disassembled into tiny visions, of planes flying & grazing the country’s landscape with fire,

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discourse

July 10, 2019

As I walk through the city I hear a stream of accents Eddies and pools of language Floating into my ears

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Today Never Ends

June 19, 2019

Joe Biden announces he’s running for President deadly kissing bug spreading across the United States there is something at the end where it rains plasma on the sun

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Two Poems by John L. Stanizzi

June 12, 2019

TOTAL WAR ON THE HIGHWAY OF DEATH -Highway 80 -February 26-27, 1991 Schwarzkopf lied about what was on the road; he tasted smoky ruins, flaming flesh. Like the fraud of the future with his thugs, this ranking swine voodooed his own rapists from butchered people in Toyota vans.

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Belial

June 12, 2019

It was a beautiful night. A little cold, but beautiful. That’s what he told me, it was beautiful, okay? And she was out there, walking, working - this hooker. Not as beautiful as the night, he said, but not a dog, either. A little banged up, seen some things. Blonde hair – it has to be. Body was perfect, but the face needed some work, you know what I mean?

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We the Pennies

June 12, 2019

The only change I’ve ever found in this damned world was some discarded pennies. I’ve found them in the alleyways, high on misplaced dreams. I’ve found them left on Wall Street, trashed by American greed. I’ve found them in grocery stores, scrambling to survive. I’ve found them in free clinics, scared by the cost of their life. I’ve found them in fast food joints, looking for sweet, fat-fried joy. I’ve found them in back bars, melancholy on their mind, synthetic hope bubbling from their stein. I’ve found them in public schools, where they first begin to learn their place. I’ve found them in the suburban city malls, loitering to belong, unable to afford their own space.

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Five Poems by Juliette Sebock

June 6, 2019

Strictly Taboo You decide you want me because you’ve decided I’m a whore. And you believe it because that’s what he told you, That it was all me and he couldn’t resist the rose quartz and rosemary, Mother to the Virgin Queen.

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