Posts Tagged ‘ poem ’

Frances Angela – Lilliput Review



sagging breasts her eyes closed as she smiles


frances angela
London, UK

Lilliput Review, #197
Autumn 2016


A Longhouse Birdhouse: KOON WOON ~

A Season In Hell

“When you come in to work each morning,
remove your bodily organs and limbs
one by one. Hang them up on the hooks
provided in the walk-in-the-box, then put a white apron
onto your disembodied self, pick up a knife,
and go to the meat block,” said Alex, the manager.

I was also drained of blood and other vital bodily fluids.

After the morning rush
preparing pork adobo and chicken curry,
I ate lunch with Fong the chief cook
and Lee the dishwasher.

In the afternoon, I examined souls and kept their
merits and demerits in a ledger.

For the three months I worked at City Lunch near the BART Station.
I paid my rent and gradually became robust enough to walk yo work.
The entire city of San Francisco swung with the rhythm of my walk
and stars appeared in the middle of the afternoon with a sliver of the

Meanwhile, at Fisherman’s Wharf, the stingrays came to the jetty
and whipped their tails against rocks. Tourists paid me to dance
on the waves; I carefully tread water and remembered to breathe.

In the end, I was evicted anyway from my castle that glowed at night.
For lack of anything better to do, I walked from hilltop to hilltop,
burned newspapers to inhale the smoke, then climbed down to the
beneath the Golden Gate Bridge and harvested seaweed.

I waited until one sunny day when the water was warm and calm,
then swam all the way to Asia and got replacements for my
disembodied self.
I did not forget that I was a ghost.
And that was my first season in Hell.

Koon Woon
Water Chasing Water
Kaya Press, 2013

Source: A Longhouse Birdhouse: KOON WOON ~

Seamus Heaney | 3quarksdaily: Wednesday Poem

The First Words

[from the Romanian of Marin Sorescu]

The first words got polluted
Like river water in the morning
Flowing with the dirt
Of blurbs and the front pages.
My only drink is meaning from the deep brain,
What the birds and the grass and the stones drink.
Let everything flow
Up to the four elements,
Up to water and earth and fire and air.

by Seamus Heaney
from The Spirit Level
Farrar Straus Giroux, NY, 1996

Source: 3quarksdaily: Wednesday Poem

“Idiopathic Illness” a New Poem by Meghan O’Rourke”Idiopathic Illness” a New Poem by Meghan O’Rourke | Literary Hub

Idiopathic Illness

I threw hollowed self at your robust,
went for IV drips, mercury detoxes, cilantro smoothies.
I pressed my lips to you, fed you kale, spooned down coconut oil.
I fasted for blood sugar, underboomed the carbs,
chased ketosis, urine-stripped and slip-checked.
Baked raw cocoa & mint & masticated pig thyroids.
You were contemporary, toxic, I can’t remember what you were,
you’re in my brain, inflaming it, using up the glutathione.
I read about you on the Internet & my doctor agreed.
Just take more he urged & more.
You slipped into each cell. I went after you with a sinking inside
and medical mushrooms for maximum oom, I plumbed
you without getting to nevermore. O doom.
You were a disease without name, I was a body gone flame,
together, we twitched, and the acupuncturist said, it looks difficult,
stay calmish. What can be said? I came w/o a warranty.
Stripped of me—or me-ish-ness—
I was a will in a subpar body.
I waxed toward all that waned inside.


Megan O’Rourke


Source: “Idiopathic Illness” a New Poem by Meghan O’Rourke | Literary Hub

Les Chercheuses de Poux par Arthur Rimbaud – Don Yorty

… My favorite poem by Rimbaud is innocent and sensual; and there are those who would call it repulsive. It’s all about a boy’s sexual […]

Source: Les Chercheuses de Poux par Arthur Rimbaud – Don Yorty

“A Little Bit” by Eileen Myles

Source: “A Little Bit” by Eileen Myles

▶ Razor Psalm by Sean Bonney