Mary Kasimor

hummingbird teacups

the m    otion clings to stone     s
buz     zes its wings
it     is impossible to f  ind hum   mingbirds
delic     ately collecting t      he air
through mi    les of glas     s and mirrors
like a vic     torian poem on disp     lay 
burying a    silve    r voice
it   ’s choosing nothing while n   o one is looking
 on    a rim o    f terror
floating in chi       na te     a cups

oh actions ballet feet

the dominoes have    fallen              declared the dictator
sculpturing a loss                                  of virginity               
drools a         foot
crawling into the wall soul                   mates spin cotton
broken news attached   fu   nctions 
                                                                     air conditioners
fluster            oh                                             starry night 
oh action                                                   ballet feet
in decimals                                                  forgive the rain 
smells of distance
                                                far away broken egg yo   lks 
another burden investigates itself 
for     getting the password
holes where words                             d           rift around 
                                                                when fools
walk in                                                   with cy       mbals 
in a sweaty place                                     of
smoked                                                  cigarettes 
                                                               gypsies speak in 
psychiatric orders                            their sanity wings it 
another dull                        land    scape where apples 
are grown
delicious                                              c     hasing voices 
purple bruises 
                                                           the beautiful
paradox   is a       way                   paging through old
photos living with                               the silences 
of wi       lliams
do you remember       those grocery lists 
memorized              while dancing drunk through
the symptoms of witless? 
                                                            broke  n fatigue
after pushing the baby                 out    I threw you 
inside twin stars                    with nowhere to go 
but alaska beckons
the ghost town                               disa        ppearing 
                                                           into its sleeve 
another bro                                       ken moment  
the water flows th  rough
                                                          cheap chocolate
biting your tongue                         
oh                                   poor child destined to love 
I will make you great
 with the faces                                       in
                                                                your head 
with one way                                     spoken and
the white rose bre   a                        thing the truth

october opera

the best place to be is underwater 
with water colors mixed up 
red and purple golden shrimp approaching extinction
don’t look at me living among skeletons 
bones breaking down the door between the bones 
we have quit breathing 
we have devoured the flesh like cookie dough
shivering inside of emptiness we throw confetti 
and tennis balls golf balls knocking off our baldness 
it never ends without a russian opera
falling into pickles vats 
and loud with ritalin i self-prescribe rosehips 
and the insane are found in church hymnals 
there is more to say 
thank you for taking me back to the beginning of breathlessness 
at a faster pace we prance through the city 
riding circles to the source 
how do we hold onto whatever we are? 
fruit flies alone on the third floor advance to the fourth floor 
a bat in the darkness takes me back to the lost and found 
an umbrella dripping footprints in the jungle 
faux kisses imaginary clothing in gingham 
dances alone in a small room a mile from the kitchen 
growing a garden of barren ideas killing themselves 
with roses breaking into their veins 
there are places that glow even then the diva plays a piano 
at the worst time when the ocean deserts its shadow 
that is all I can think about 
cuddling stones like newborn babies 
love lies on the shore the water sees for miles 
the water etches a november’s storm singing a fear’s history 
I plunked at the strings that make a sound belonging to another 
place with titillating literature 
seen as a wave the ocean is stranded

A flat tire on the road 
abundance salvages
a trail of spiders 
gingham cobwebs
a worm sulks in her mouth
that ugly brute gravity lifts
up skeletons
through the desert reptile stones 
she knows about the sand’s bombastic past
its hours with pleasure
sperm settles
into the egg ripening for deliver                                 
shoes meet in the final scene
the other soft cheek infects
the flowers etched into water
white letters drop to earth
with other methods of enlightenment

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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