Monthly Archives: November 2013

KATE SCHAPIRA- FRAGMENTS

Fragment (the sleeping partner)

incised like pieces of time not to touch but to always know

the sound of someone a tractor mowing the field to bristle to cut the kids’ feet tomorrow

yet they run it out make it every

crux a road another road where cells grow frantic drop their proteins run and yet once spread out blankets shook out in the sun

no limit to the room of sleep its volume a boundless continuous basin and bellow

*

Fragment (the waking partner)

The list of strange
cases includes
me and should include you.
I’m a spring that sticks.
A waving palm. When
you’re making your beautiful
breathing arrangements there’s
one step I want
you to keep for me,
you pearl of need,
you superb embarassment.

*

Fragment (the sleeping partner)

who does the obligation love the hot wind lick what does it howl on the plain

flood of animal drawings to adorn a flood of t-shirts to wear in caves to warm and

swaddle the A/C icicle high

clouds excite a feeling of nature in the cavity

how to know something’s been torn out more than a line trying to eke out the flood

pillage and relish a loose skin shaped like a tiny boat before it’s stretched under a frame

undo a mooring of water no expanse will drain where it ends is worse

*

Fragment (the waking partner)

I cut no slack to lack.
My cares can grow
sacrally, fitfully,
threshing effort, indefinitely.
Look at the rank money
under new medicine.
Look beyond. Tender
sprouts. Liquid
manure before the throat.
I wait for you.
I brought you terms.
You refused to love them.
Don’t cry before
you’re hurt. Your
roar, the road down
into you cries
out on the bare offer.

*

Fragment (the sleeping partner)

on the face of the waters all ducts gush old tears of ruin and hot metal flaring

are they most noble must they become a giant of strategy bestriding

no no high among the milkweeds caught infiltrating in unison said it’d be all right

parted from the past lives department by a three-strand fence

of incalculable menace the rigor bells ring all bedside

all the hollow-eyed night-tide the fear and care of raising

(from The Duration, a manuscript in progress about living simultaneously in the present, a future that exists, and a future that does not)
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Andrew Spragg

Shorts
for 
 
I

The electives and a heart stop:
find there something
idling in you, forging on or
lifted to grouch about.

Time taken by a distance, a measure.
A voice finds footing in the surface
not needing assistance, seeking the guard:
later on will just be later.

Caught flat from the air,
an accidental flourish and
calling it out, that'll be the
magnet of progress.

Incomparable object:
that old la lune.

II
 
Collapse the market
            with infinite love exchange,
watching that slight
clip over and over.

Hey but now let's listen:
conquer all turned cheek
as it meets with the sun,  and it is such a
pretty one.

Where we met the last time,
he was pushing the
object gracelessly up the stairs.

III

Colossal throb, locket for my heart ,
there are the great multitudes of poise
and the proviso of little else.

Dear all – stomp-out the blue ache,
how good and great thou art –
if you just halted by and by.

Outfoxed or rumly does it
or it does not
mainly compete,

but consummate the other.
Where's the den then and the
making of a major.

Stops there, will for the nothing be,
there's the medicine and then
there's the now.

Remarkable measure:
if you can hear this
I am talking to you.

IV

And found there
out in the dark
a warm sate of attentive

longed aspects,
too in excess of simple excess,
and there's the warm rub.

V

leapt from one thing to
another like wild fire

do not be daft all
another fire is a kind of wild

and the world is a stone
cold fox

other things that are a stone
cold fox

include you.
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