Rind

The critic
resolves her sonnets
into empty feet.

The boss
rejects proposals
he has barely skimmed.

The husband
compares her pilaf
to swill for hogs.

The gas
she hopes will kill her
leaks away.

The analyst
________unpeels her
__________________till she disappears.


Catherine A. Callaghan



(orange images provided by SKansk, upcoming artist/photographer peaceful hooligan from SeattleWA)

Brooklyn Anchorage

and at noon I will fall in love
and nothing will have meaning
except for the brownness of
the sky, and tradition, and water
and in the water off the railway
in New Haven all the lights
go on across the sun, and for
millenia those who kiss fall into
hospitals, riding trains, wearing
black shoes, pursued by those
they love, the Chinese in the armies
with the shiny sound of Johnny Cash,
and in my plan to be myself
I became someone else with
soft lips and a secret life,
and I left, from an airport,
in tradition of the water
on the plains, until the train
started moving and yesterday
it seemed true that suddenly
inside of the newspaper
there was a powerline and
my heart stopped, and everything
leaned down from the sky to kill me
and now the cattails sing.


Lisa Jarnot.

check her out folks- she simply rocks as a poet person.