Mary Kasimor

in love

my Mouth STumbled 
OUT                        in love
mumbled                      Out
                            the CIGarette
tasted Good 
after a long evening         ’S si
i wanted The fire 
OF                                 thunder
from darkNESS
burned into the first Era of O-ceans
i wanted the wooden 
                                wrought IRon 
                 the HEAViness of water 
i                        wanted The PAIN
of a distracted Sound 
blood      chemicals              and BLeach
the energy                   of trans  parent
                  lig hting 
and              NY      lon faces   and ELbows
you                       float EMpty armed 
oceans o    pen TO the               sounD 
as repetition          and SPEcTacle 
               a ParaDe          of nerves 
and REAsons sitting 
in bodies                           in l   ove
we are only CHairs        and shadow   s 
AND clothes hangers hung Out     to dry
while the      old           Woman re-Visits 
herself for                           a second 
o    pinion                                      in the AIR
her voice                   s Chose
                          holding the PHYsics 
of circles 
TO touch             time quickly           Away
after separating           from practice
AFTER the children           Are lost

in the machines

we are pa                
gans with our finest Voices 
after turning of      f 
the television (and leavin  g)
i was left                 behind 
in five different places
eating oa     tm eal                                                         
gum  my bears 
the blue pill gathers                            
its sleep toge  ther
in the mornings 
gathe         red emergencies
ambiguity  ’s     in       the machines
its rusted grinder    bled over       
all the stitching 
and layers of th    e rest                          
of us
worn ou  tside our                      
lifesty     les dan      cing 
to universal blindness 
with       out health insurance 
check the dum   psters      
stopping the eb   b of sacrifice 
as shel     fish little    beans                  
we border ourselves 
over th     ere                            
over her   e we retain                  
our id   entities startling    
the words that c     ame 
and wen       t             
with pricy             subtraction 
and pom     posity like a rose              
a f   lower                        
 a starf               ish


outside of myself

when the room was re-decorated 
the old walls                      flung out 
of the window 
the voices are screwdrivers 
ending life and electricity 
                          prim and contained 
chew your food slowly 
mouth closed and crossed
(do not gossip) 
the two voices hear themselves
and leave the room 
                            i listen to the death
of a spider 
with all the webs of spain
the natural beauty left the land 
                                it repeats itself 
(new babies)
being born              repeats itself
without words       tone celebrates 
sound let’s hear her 
                                   strategy leaves
and is without a plan 
i walk without direction
with an old tradition of mouths 
                                  touching air 
i was supposed to be 
imagined strength
while i sit on the outside of myself 

edge of cognition

indoor skydiving into /an envelope 
i have left myself for you /on blank 
pieces of paper repeating my/selve/s 
repeating i am a grass/hopper leaping 
taking the earth /away what shadows 
they are /encrypted in this remote 
control /water a sip here and there 
we dance around the dry fountain 
/we haven’t designed ourselves well 
if i scream /you will take out my heart 
rub it in salt /my pickled heart /my words 
on repeat control /how many pounds 
of flesh? /chewing ourselves up  
the layers of humiliation where we
are /high for another day smelling 
ourselves the industrialized smell /of 
who they are following /our illness
coming to the edge of re/cognition 
to what i might be in the final rows
planted seeds /the crows with their tiny 
fingers /wait to be eaten i am alloy 
metallic hissing i am described without 
entrance /or exit where the poetry 
plays with children

Mary Kasimor has been writing poetry for many years and is still looking for her voice. Her recent poetry collections are The Landfill Dancers (BlazeVox Books 2014), Saint Pink (Moria Books 2015), The Prometheus Collage (Locofo Press 2017), and Nature Store (Dancing Girl Press 2017). Her poetry has been published in many journals, including Word For/Word, Touch the Donkey, Posit, Human Repair Kit, Arteidolia (collaboration with Susan Lewis), and Otoliths.
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