Posts Tagged ‘Think Tank’

THERMOS 6: Julie Carr

From our spring 2011 issue, some poems from Julie Carr, one of my very favorite contemporary poets. These ones aren’t in a book you can buy yet, but you can buy her other books here, and should. — AS



from Think Tank



& I’m an O without a figure


no fool but an egg


with yolk eaten out


by he who swaps


the kiss of god


for a speaking tongue


at night’s noon. Blank


went the candle




*




A part of a whole, apart from a hole, is the pit of the soul,


the apex of soil. From you I might hang


babies, babies, babies



A mother’s gorges: her cheeks and her hair. Her hallowed




*




A man walks into a party


because poetry is a semiotic fortress


My sex is so quiet, it needs no song


At the Saturday playground:


O conscience, you florid surge


And poetry is an alphabet of hunger


The beast takes its pleasure, but what is pleasure?


Shoulders of the sick:


on the right and left




*




Ponderer:


Joyousness fled and sex fled: something had to restore these things


Civic volunteer plum trees,


like grieving orphans, defended nothing


“One has a secret self, a rather delicate pondering inner person


Much of poetry exists to communicate with this entity”



“Life is a plot to make me move”




*




I must effort to remember this


girl-baby on her back


Wind up and the water grew hotter. Her visage more


or less fair, fairly sound, sweetly fair


Where is my fool? I think the world asleep


In my mother’s mossy little mirror


the freedoms of fire


vaporized. We’ve altogether


forgotten her


Is this, then, the place?




*




One to two to one to two to one to two to one


goes regeneration’s


math. There, the door opens for: sun, road, behold


five–a perfect gaggle of kids


Apples, potatoes, pigs, and birds. Bread, milk, sugar, and eggs:


Feed my kids. The cow feeds my kids. The truck. The flame feeds


my kids. The bag feeds my kids. Plum and butter and nut and hen:


nothing so kind as a warehouse




*




& the windowpanes rattle in the bad news/good news format,


a way of displacing or troubling the triumphal narrative of the emergence of a rational-critical sphere


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