the poetry that matters

Mary Kasimor

Mary Kasimor has been published in many online and print journals, including Fact-Simile, Otoliths, Big Bridge, GutCult, moria, Reconfigurations, MayDay magazine, MIPOesias, Cannot Exist, among others. She has two books of poetry: & cruel red (Otoliths) and silk string arias. She was awarded the Merida Fellowship Award (US Poets in Mexico).

shivered light

this is my version in its most shapeless form earth shaped. by how
we choose to inter.pret I cannot see outside the mirror. empties
the woman is. beautiful the ocean filled with tears & knows. it’s
full & knows it drowns. the earth empties. the flood swept us away
& left it behind I. was final & knew extermination but not. yet
the granite veins are calcified. blood the rest of the city was
steamy with atmos.phere the day ended without time. but we
had worked our.selves to death we slept hard & creased the rocks.
with our foreheads outside the expanse of light I was smallest. &
shivered as a pinprick of light indivisible & other. worldly in these
frozen dreams & still. more than anything no right angles. on this
plot of earth until we busied ourselves. with plans I bruised my whole
skin the map of my desires I wandered off the plan. the photo.s of
desperation is a rare negative of sepia. filled darkness she walked
across the lawn & disappeared unnumbered. & unnamed with
a false security she disappeared & with.in the stack of bodies. she
found herself answered I was. & am not named & unburied. & left
in the surface of what is never left. but knows itself alone.

a minor tree

from out of my blood the noise pounding I hear it. as the lyrical
bird the crow in a minor tree the noise moves. forward at midnight
of rivers & trains moving away. gritty & with dust in my mouth
I sing. my leaving & arrival syncopated & silence says more & I
move. (it) lumbering across the city the monster awakening. without
anything else naked as the sun sweat of the ages glistening like
notes I wear. the sound & I am unrecognized with beautiful bruises
the trees shake from their roots. aquarius sneaks into the chorus
we will sing. until we echo this at 2 a.m. is the sleaze of payola.
& it repeats itself until daylight windows open radio playing passion
spins silver spins wax & wanes this is wine. in my blood & whiskey
in yours this is the staccato of a knife. in the heart a needle sewing
it back (again) the soul drifts. in the middle of nowhere needing no
one but its own heart breaking beauty that catches the fire & burns
into a skeleton when the wind breathes in. & flies out danger
trusting itself naked. ear it follows itself into the underground into
the cave of hollow. bones the gilded metal manufacturing the dust
in a room filled. with machines & screams that offer bliss it was
in a bottle & we drank. the water that flowed out of the harp
these were the strings that our collective fingers invented

in pieces

this changed all
disappearances       the ounces of my desires
& not one more in
the measurement of atmosphere
we decomposed
                      from mercy
& falling for the lies      like chicken little without
her head crossing
the road
                    there was a relief in walking away
the body lightened
I felt it behind my ribs         
an ideology filled
with holes        through the holes
                                        I discovered
in these holes
an emptiness     where god was a root
without any growth            the body greening
& growing the slime of ages
                the sublime is a circle & gleamed
absolute divided & alone we traveled in
other directions
I fell for the note lured by its opaque tenderness
                 wandered into myself
with the seconds that trap me
in the boredom of my interiors       the shadow of the bird
flew from a bottle         the selection of sensations pain
              is the boredom discomfort
& lost presence I give myself the weight
of existence            breath without weariness
                         I am lonely & wander
through the interior with nothing to show 
        I will
die with only myself 
I will die outside the confines of my skin
                                           I will
die enraptured     with the empty pieces of noise
I will die like
a leaf falling from a tree
                 I will never fly but I will stay like
a stone in my body          I will be without virtue
or adventure
I will care without life
I will peel myself open & find the seed
I will plant the seeds & conceive        grief I will grieve & explain
myself      I will explore ecstasy
                       & never make lists      I will design
the intellect as a holy constellation      assembled in the trapezoid
of the earth           where we as pieces assemble

two faces

said less & for it. the land
sings flat but so you replied.
oceans don’t think. take them
from out of salt. bitter lips
then I replied. the flute intuits
what is best is hard. for
the best she lies on sand &
eyes north. whales are said to
be. behind to the past north
fiction. let go of strand less
sides to east. the wind now
flees hands. build to the wild 
into rocks to face themselves.


as for

indecision strips the man of all
the extras & then with vision as
bone by the central nerve feeling
loss. the style is a meme leaving
seeds the hybrid apples & potatoes.
steady the land after we are
shipwrecked & washed clear
of skin & memory. so swiftly then desire
moved to another. blinding consciousness
filters life cosmos light years pierced
& left. it bleeding another dead cycle
in the forest you said silence.
everyone heard a distance of
endings. hung for extinction
such was the texture that surfaces
occasionally allowing fire. as
a statistic illuminating the field
of rocks & left behind. in aisles
earth’s necessities in rows of false
summer. we move to what we know
in our faces the essence of anger
is cold. & we are locked out.




sifting through the remains
the moon
is low tonight
we exist
wailing about what we don’t know
a sharp knife in the back disrupts the action
the alley adjoins to the absent piece of land
then a blank in the darkness
then someone was killed
he shouted
I’m coming after you

the wolf sought refuge between
the parked cars
the pause pre-dated the collective sigh
the orchestration of the moment did not sing

a coin dropped & he did not know why
& he was not identified by his fingerprints
& he was colder than death

when the frog mutated into light the transparent dawn
shone through its legs
on the road it was squashed
& joined the heart with its little white soul

                                                                                                                                            Jan 11, 2011 Bookmark and Share