Mary Kasimor, Three Poems

 
Mary Kasimor

 
the cat’s spoons

  

fill the thermos full of

breath bright

delusion beheaded

the roses a waxen

sigh of dawn

to do

to do

lower the bodies collect

the cats

spoons of the working class

press the star

into sugar light this

is the fall the work

as outline in

the manual of food

herbal outposts

for loan

the monster shuffles another

minute a broken

sequence of undivided

attention claiming

the skin the monikers

of choice mark

the steps of diesels way

with escape & passage

the fungi bones

fall from the sky in cardboard

prices

the same today from

jealous exits

faults at 5:00 am

& hazards the

standards of blase

when midnight wailed

inversion

micro-chip the brain

bad hair answers justice

seeping out another justification

for computers

the principle

matters nothing else

either

you are for it or

it doesn’t

exist of itself it

offers itself

as the lamb

of god the crimson

river flows this

binary movement

justified

the invasion the

trees

paralyzed & crowded into cattle

cars timing each

death or escape

when it happens they are surprised

the momentum

of cotton so they

divided the freedom

each received

5% on the keyboard

thus inflating

the cost of sleep

they

are sleepless

civilization absorbing each

new

gama

ray

she stopped for coffee

& failed at her specially trained

breathing function leaves

the flaming

lungs behind neon

signs the android

operates in

unison flows down

the drain drive

thru opens for

the new

species a parade

transfers the stillness

& from sardonic tales

             posted early

is a

perfect match

_____

Mary Kasimor: “I have been writing poetry for what seems like many years. However, whenever I sit down to write, and that is almost every day, I feel as though I am completely lost and beginning over. With determination, I always get something onto the page, and then I revise it and revise it again and again. I am almost always surprised at what I finally consider the finished poem. It is also my hope that I am finding some truth in my poetry, although I believe that each truth is based on the perception created by the words. Writing poetry is a wondrous process.”

_____

RECONFIGURATIONS: A Journal for Poetics & Poetry / Literature & Culture, http://reconfigurations.blogspot.com/, ISSN: 1938-3592, Volume 5 (2011): Disappearance