Bobbi Lurie

From the work of Jeff Harrison
Sometimes the verse simply vanishes, unlike the scythe. Wouldn't you say? Is it really regular company we seek? The vanishing verses, not exactly being disused nor overlooked but being the mimic of timelessness etched upon our forgetfulness, don't you think? Isn't our meekness truly bold if seen from the inside? I daresay our meekness is bold. It hides within language and pours forth the inhospitable. It is alone save for a wanted reader, that rare one who walks the field, avoiding the scythe which turns the air into a green scent, flamboyant and savage.

Bobbi Lurie's fourth poetry collection, the morphine poems, will be published shortly by Otoliths.
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