Bernadette

bern

 

I sit in bed beside you, shearing,
Heating pad set to medium;
You say I couldn’t handle more.

You’re looking for work.
I’m reading about poets in
Monochrome.

Meanwhile, your fingers ricochet
Like ants across the keyboard;
Pfizer has some jobs in La Jolla.

I don’t want to reach over and fuck you
Nor use my teeth to puncture your pliant neck,
How glorious to be at peace

Despite all the canned blue passion
Radiating my brain, our out-there gray
Lives, like the promise of snow.

Pain always produces logic, which is
very bad for you. That’s not my line
But it’s a good one and applies here;

Women are bred for pain, they’ve got it
In them. The trick is to realize not everyone
You think is a woman is, my friend. It is dark

Now. The weather report predicts snow overnight
And it is rare the weather report is wrong
Anymore. Four to six inches. This poem

Is about fucking. Or not fucking. Or refusing
To write in bedclothes
with blood.

“Une très belle lecture dans une ambiance chaleureuse.”

Wikipedia Poem, No. 701

w701-sm

dip 
unshackable 
        confidence your wife and 
will explain with unshakeable 
to your laws and 
          forms an ex

gun sales 
dip hunger use 
very nice 
     reading you 
are wrong about and will 
   explain with surging holiday gun sales

         dip 
         indifferent 
to serf your 
  fear 
une 
      très belle holiday gun sales dip 
      laws looser than
and her 
friends move on

 

John of Patmos, Kneeling

Wikipedia Poem, No. 623

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“for when the Pope saw Raphael’s sketches // (there is never enough wall space / here, at the center of power, — ) // he ordered everything Sadoma had painted destroyed.” Frank Bidart

“One thing there’s no getting by —
I’ve been a wicked girl,” said I;
“But if I can’t be sorry, why,
I might as well be glad!”
Edna St. Vincent Milay

exiled we by dire storm 
born of a little sin
gilled systems ill of theses
mercy snaps its cloud   like wicked birch
scorched to mere mercy   whose little sorrow
judged in laodicean fire & ninety-five mph winds 
wouldn't weep   nor re-use what will has transpired 
we debris storms   list above and below 

in concomitant spore   penitent
processional committees of pine-lake door   low-hung extremities
destructive nature   sum of hurricane
below barometric pressure   broken
up intense   most powerful spue and spire 
of named tropical storm surge      impure glad   impure

marcus wicker and parmenides split a fifth and an order of pork fried rice and search for not-being in my spam folder

Wikipedia Poem, No. 593

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boys' chains on every side 
and exceedingly so
those sides our director 
of emails regards this as 
full payment    you're entitled

to your opinion     me irl
carried rn me      carried 
   me carried fwiw me me me   carried jk

any shadows' successes    
but the boys' especially   further held   as possession
as regards to you and your mind 
filtering light through quick low clouds 

    undiscerning here should have drawn its place to thing 
         here 
          should 
    have drawn 
its place 
         of men deaf of 

office hours 
the filter   power 
così così
through the wet black ink bureau 
file my will    somehow
on our   niggling wetness makes it appear   darker   somehow crammed

       anniversary 
          arise of placed thing 
eyes who preserve 
   first 
but justice keeps it 
lie from the same from thee 
for feeling under

time file our   hours' lord
the transfer 
office hours 
of you   
corrupt governor 
build     
it then lie 

from these male things 
swung by me   along to be the carried thing me carried 
     me carried me   far
         
file our will 
as director emails on 
our payment   
file the will    inform 
your corrupt government 
build again   wet   charm carapace

 

Wikipedia Poem, No. 387

wiki387-3

“My idea was that poems might weave together such ‘hidden persuaders,’ … bouncing ‘controlling interests ‘ off one another and creating woofs and warps of ideological display.” Charles Bernstein, FSG Poetry


       it's expected 
mostly 
        temperatures observant
      wind runs 
winds the weather
sunny with 
          gusts

as 
high as 
it feels chillier 

setting the numbers fools you
    weekend in january 
temperatures  
look
      wind will 
make a dive 
the state 
         up 
from a cold blast
an alberta clipper 
      expected expected to 
         push 
the 
stake
        where's all 
their blow

  we're near 
the 
state
line up for a cold 
be near
  the 
weather
sunny with gusts
     as 
      high as you feel but chillier 

settling 
     takes 
  all that rotten feeling chillier 
       
setting 
their 
      blow
we're near the state
where all the 
calm dissipates 
      
  a 
        bit like 
night 
         dropped 
      on a drive 
weather up 
for 
    a cold blast

Wikipedia Poem, No. 349

wiki349

“They’ve rubbed away the designs that gave life to the crumbling walls. Some words raise themselves affirmatively.” Pierre Reverdy

   destructive 
  destructive 
      
        founded basin 
    there but 
exploding 
         
         destructive   
 and 
deeper 
 
         diagram 
than 
  that is 
there but exploding 
        
        destructivity feeds the
  case may be
      
a river 
  from the 
geological society 

     would 
exploding 
      destructive 
        
        destructivity 
      feed the 
   pressure 
in 
        that 
instance 
      there
  without 
 lakes

Wikipedia Poem, No. 262

mikulski202

“She waits, trying / to have the best song on as we arrive. / The moon is blurred. / Our helicopters are shooting at field-workers. / The Mets are down 3-1 in the 6th.” August Kleinzahler

 

library pieces monk online
pieces of golden eyes genre
and president the crowds

in this blistering comment crows
there wins the fracture tap bemoan
in this bemusing a bone

public library pieces blush upwind
reports with fronts of anywhere
one comment the demograph

reactionary instances of great
various kings who estuary of
governing piece eyes no start

and monk online great meat
various weatherself to wonder with
deals a monk blush monk blush blush

a monk a blush a monk
the blush the monk a blush the monk
the blush monk a blush the monk blush

“The sky is a very bad parent”

The sky is a very bad parent
impatient, grinding its teeth, hyperventilating 
as its baby wahs and wails and flails 
and vomits all over its parent's prettiest things
and the parent grabs its little darling
a little too tight
a taut smile a slight tear
traps it under an arm and marches into the kitchen
opens the dark chemical cabinet under the sink 
tosses in the nuisance 
like a lightning-chopped tree trunk crushes a two-family home
claps the cabinet closed.