Posts Tagged ‘ Noelle Kocot ’

Pictures of Elk | Boston Review

 

Pictures of Elk
Noelle Kocot

Source: Pictures of Elk | Boston Review

Healing the Phantom Pains Through Poetry: Q&A with Noelle Kocot – ZYZZYVA

kocot

Noelle Kocot

I turn to the poems of Noelle Kocot for the same reason I entered corn mazes as a kid: both are pleasurably unpredictable, and both transform

Source: Healing the Phantom Pains Through Poetry: Q&A with Noelle Kocot – ZYZZYVA

Happiness by Noelle Kocot | Poem-a-Day | Poets.org

Happiness

Noelle Kocot

Our ancestors in the earth are not
Ashamed of us. The strong smell
Of dirt, the delirious rabbits, the
Clocks are all disappearing. A

Prehistoric gift acquires the smell
Of salt. I grasp onto winter’s tail.
Some water plants are lying around.
Smell & taste, I have had good

Luck in love. The slippery roads,
The capricious numbers on a blazing
Road, meet me at the forest’s edge
Where we can go with our legs

Lopped off, strangers to the clean
Teeth and tongue of outward happiness.

Copyright © 2015 by Noelle Kocot. Used with permission of the author.

Confessionalism Birthed from Feminism | Coldfront

Adrienne Rich

Confessionalism Birthed from Feminism | Coldfront.

On Being an Artist by Noelle Kocot | Academy of American Poets

On Being An Artist

Noelle Kocot

Saturn seems habitual,
The way it rages in the sky
When we’re not looking.
On this note, the trees still sing
To me, and I long for this
Mottled world.  Patterns
Of the lamplight on this leather,
The sun, listening.
My brother, my sister,
I was born to tell you certain
Things, even if no one
Really listens.  Give it back
To me, as the bird takes up
The whole sky, ruined with
Nightfall.  If I can remember
The words in the storm,
I will be well enough to sit
Here with you a little while.

 

Academy of American Poets

 

 

Almost Nightfall by Noelle Kocot | Plume

 

Almost Nightfall | Plume.

on Noelle Kocot’s “Soul in Space” | “Tumbling at the Edge of Disaster” |

T H E   B L U E

 

How often we say things we don’t mean
Fully, with our full selves. But this is
All right, since we cannot make sense of
The growing weeds, the things that go
Where only blue travels. A hymn rings
Out. The wavery wind blows. I don’t
Want to sound coy or even ridiculous,
But after all, the azure of a face drawn
In sand at the edge of a sea is my own
Two deaths. The first one happened 7
Year ago. I’ve grown all new cells since
Then. The next will happen at some point,
But I’m not worried, not hardly. Is this a
Message? A message to whom? Is it
To you, who polishes me like a pearl?
Humanity is more than that, I think, and
Now the light has spoken. It’s time
To carry the weight of the day, and wait
For sleep to come again, as it does,
Flat and ridiculous over the whole blue land.

Noelle Kocot

 

 

 

 

 

“Tumbling at the Edge of Disaster” |.