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Author Archives: perfectsublimemasters
Despite seven years of French class
after Chen Chen bonjour rolled off my tongue like a McDonald’s Big Breakfast. I coughed it along the staircase, spraying each step with sad crumbs. I imagined myself smaller & chanting with Émile & Pierre. The vowels we sang knew … Continue reading
The Wild Conference
You gloss over the teeth of a profuse night with friends bottled up in wine drains like little mites blooming in flesh under the neon lights when he enters plugging the quick vein on his temple – 2 centimeters resound … Continue reading
What she said before disappearing in her own prayer
With fallen love, I scraped my knees. I couldn’t find the right hospital to heal me. I don’t care for plasters or dressings, for gauze soaked in black blood. They only mean that this is the price, such is loss. … Continue reading
Pronoun as measure of an open space
In the tiny encyclopedia of pronouns, you is a too reckless I. If I say you, it is to pray to myself – a somewhat clumsy way to pronounce a whole beyond the body. If my blasphemy resounds like a … Continue reading
Broken mysticism
Give me no more. Christ & Resurrection. Give me no more. lullaby & mainstream. Let the page. be erased. by a beetle Of new flesh. I always believe. Though I have never believed. I let my mouth. Sparkle. On behalf … Continue reading
11:59 pm
I look at the black mouth of the hill from the crimson slit of a skylight. Inside, Dissection’s Into Infinite Obscurity whitens my thick morning walls. I smoke Winston Blue straight from a rib of the night. A random TV … Continue reading
Post mortem of a young mother
What became of her, ten thousand meters deep in my memory? What happened to the cursed car, the shattered glass? What became of my grandmother stunned in the dream beyond the dream? Touch the skeleton of the rain, she says. A … Continue reading
Movement like assonance
I’ve read the birds’ migration east to west while they carved the earth’s chest seen from above. Their scalpels black like eyeliners on the eyes of those who inhabit the urban commas. How will we manage to leave behind a … Continue reading
Recycling the waste of the sacred
Like the breath that fattens in the glass of rum I just want to grow beyond me to catch the scent of an inner slaughter. As a child, I touched an impalpable skeleton in the school lockers. I took my … Continue reading
The Anthropologist’s Daughter
My mother is a chaser of ghosts— she stores souls in between her knuckles, to press their cooling breaths to my forehead when a migraine strikes She lives in a typewriter box with Durkheim and Freud and Bourdieu, and all … Continue reading
Ritual for self-possession
I unfold the beauty from my limbs, fold it, careful, in thirds, place it on the foot of my narrow bed before the evening—wraps—its arms around me I unbind the vitality, lightness, of my Body, hang it up, careful, this youth … Continue reading
A New Adventure
“I’m afraid I might be turning into a tree.” The assistant chiropractor looks away from the computer he’s typing his notes into. He half-smiles. “I’m nearly done, then we’ll start making you feel like a human again, Kit.” He resumes … Continue reading
The Optimist
There is no oven in this room– a good omen, he says, ignoring one fact for another. The open sky of his eyes reassures, surveys emptiness and files under opportunity. This is not a kitchen. Under knife-spread shadows I uncover … Continue reading
Strings
I tried to write my memoirs but they all turned into poems. It’s like flying a kite at the beach next to a couple of marauding seagulls, hovering in the wind. Maybe the two aren’t so different. One curls around … Continue reading
No Sign
The rest of us woke up without you. It wasn’t so bad until a bird slammed into my window, falling backwards onto the porch. Her wings flayed outwards. Her head limp. There was no sign, no gentle pumping beneath her … Continue reading
Shed
My father, Vincent, was a confusing alien to me. He was always smiling, never tired, even sang his cuss words. “Motherrrr-fuckerrrr” he would croon in a passable tenor to the tune of “Volare” if he burned his finger on the … Continue reading
The Pivot
a red barn against a green field, doors open, light streaming in, revealing bales of hay stacked on top of each other, five rows deep. a silver silo beside the barn. a flock of Canadian geese in V formation overhead. … Continue reading
kaddish
here, put out your hands. you want to get clean. every room in the hospital – every doorway – leaves itself * open here, there is still skin and blood and sinew underneath. the heart monitor still beeps its dirty … Continue reading
Looking Away
As a child in the car at night, I would alternate between counting the endless reflector kernels (yellow corn down the middle, white corn along the edge) or staring into the sun-pits of oncoming headlights that grew from specks to … Continue reading
Love Poem
I’m single, which means I’m available at 11pm to tell the man three time zones away it’s okay that he thinks of other men, okay that he sometimes fights and loses the ache to prop the closet door on his … Continue reading
beatnik fairyland
the road hits the cliff and the cliffs hit the water and the water just fades on the sky big sur has no service and your car rolls back out of the parking lot off the cliffs and into the … Continue reading
The Interview
Their bulky fluorescent vests riding up and hovering as they sat down, keeping perfect form. Their well-worn neutral expressions. The way a human mouth curdles with a wh- How the pavement had glistened a dark sweat on the way home. … Continue reading
Fruit
Flesh wraps itself around a stone, soft enough to bruise, and round like a moon or palm or the sun, from braids to rays down the back which men’s eyes grow to take in and tangle and they are round … Continue reading
Snow on the Grass of April
The first days of unpredictable April turns its sack of tricks upside down, empties its contents of cold winds and a smattering of snow flakes, small enough to have fallen from a giant salt shaker, upon the village of Dedham. … Continue reading
Snake River
Two dogs colored like copper circuit wire circle us. We kneel and cajole, hoping to feel their pink noses press into our palms. Instead, they watch us like we are the strangers who don’t belong. The boys have built a … Continue reading
