Poetry

                                                            Queer ghost whose aspect is focused backwards . . . /                                                                                Jennifer Moxley, “Behind the Orbits” /   / Queer revenant whose other face—Janus, owl-face—whose dark side / is glimpsed in a...

                                                            flickering, we live uncalendared. /                                                                Jennifer Moxley, “Underlying Assumptions” /   / Quivering, we live as if without limits / At intervals, we feel unbound to our feet /   / Mouthing...

One is voluptuous, a study of desire the way it is opened. The pale throat / of it offered or forgotten, the great silence and the way it is issued: / pale...

I rimmed my eyes in black and wore plastic / and metal around my neck. Sheri-D piled / her hair on top of her head and danced / in pointed black boots....

We brought you here already tired, / my eighteen-month-old hunter-gatherer, / soldiering through sand to forage / for bits of treasure to bring back to me: / cigarette butts, broken shells, /...

and you / opening after to my / opening also /   / your mouth / breaks in less words, more life forms / a wave or / one look before the...

And in the room of quartz blooms /   / nothingness which is a cemetery of crows /   / each bearing a bright yellow something /   / in his beak...

There is a song for the dead / and the drowned / the tune of which I can’t remember, / so many seasons from the sea. / Though there was a time...

Crouched in the stairwell / cloaked in shadows / I watch my mother / in the kitchen / waltz /   / Her faded housecoat / cinched tight / around soft waist...