Sparks

That is our body,

there are fuses--
sometimes the arcing electricity is blinding,
blows cicuit breakers

breaking under the weight
of secrets and sorrow
and singularity

Sparking, this is my body
in the shadows

This is my body that confuses
and confesses
lights up the darkness
with quick flames --- that lick the sore spots

This is my body

a confession
an omission

of blinding sadness
and power

another suitcase for my grandma

6.

WHEN -------- I want////to go
they faded, the polaroids of the beach that day

you, the [ ] housewife
who never liked to cook
the cracks--gaps--your face--un-famil-y
the way the breath
just
stopped.

dulling varnish
the lacquered box black
cabinets bare
looked back
holding on----------the pain

open rusted clasps

curl yourself inside its walls.

EOAGH is out

reading launch for EOAGH: A Journal of the Arts, Issue Three: Queering Language


Saturday, March 24th, 6pm to 8pm
ROBIN'S BOOKSTORE
http://www.robinsbookstore.com/
108 S. 13th St.
Philadelphia

hosted by Tim Peterson & CAConrad

Readers will include:
Dodie Bellamy, Kyle Conner, CAConrad, Jim Cory, Sarah Dowling, Maria Fama, Chris Gullo, hassen, Mytili Jagannathan, Anne Kaier, Candace Kaucher, Erica Kaufman, Kevin Killian, Janet Mason, Cathleen Miller, Ashraf Osman, Tim Peterson, Stephen Potter, Sina Queyras, Jason Zuzga

Dodie Bellamy will read the kari edwards editorial statment

We will also be reading the work of Alexandra Grilikhes and Almitra David

EOAGH Issue 3 - Queering Language was edited by CAConrad, kari edwards, Paul Foster Johnson, Erica Kaufman, Jack Kimball, Tim Peterson, and Stacy Szymaszek.

This online publication includes the work of over 100 contributors as well as editors' statements on this project.

The issue of EOAGH is dedicated to the memory of
kari edwards (1954-2006)
dear friend, mentor, colleague, crusader.

two new suitcases

4.

He will want--a sweater for the evening--
milking the cows, feeding the cats
the morning--eggs and toast
the routine breaking apart

She lived in----------
THIS IS A JAIL--I want to---
freedom of movement

It is a grazy day--
on the coast, the clouds condense
red sliding, white shudders

He was there for so long,
then gone---
the soft-sided bags expand, take on new forms
wandering in the forest, alone


5.

Open on the bed--collecting cast-aways
searching the familiar--
his name always on the surface,
the air, motionless, afraid.

Your children becom-- strangers
that night, twenty years ago, when he---------
keys falling from hands
blank stare

You are going inward, inhabiting----
this body, never comforted
you live--------?
the sight brings joy, immediate
coming from far away

this place, unfamiliar