Poetry
Posts tagged with dissociative-identity-disorder
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Suddenly Stephanie
No warning no discussion no sign. Suddenly Stephanie staring back across time. Was she ready? Were you? Le double vie… Yet here we find ourselves I was not ready, but I’m not angry.
Image in collaboration with Dan Lidon, 4x5 film
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Goodbye
I bid in you adieux, farewell, neverender pain-spring well source The pain swells suddenly Stephanie poetry instead of wine purging people instead of facing realities -a bridge across time back to those days you wish it wasn’tthat you weren’t but you are, and it’s yours to kill or love or…
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Sickness
Sickness “I will be a new threshing instrumentwith many sharp teeth.I will tear my enemies apart,making chaff of mountains.I will toss them into the air,And the wind will blow them all away;A whirlwind will scatter them.” —Isaiah 41: 15-17 My father is…
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Season
“Seasons are always changing. What season are you in?” I am in a season of “fuck you, you don’t can’t couldn’t possibly definitely don’t know me” so stop trying right there right where you are. Stop and don’t get any closer. I am a dragon swallowing my fire. I am…
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Too Much Again
I keep a shard of glass tucked in the back of a drawer in case it all becomes too much again.
(c) LSP Fine Art + Studio LeRoi
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Somewhere Far Away
It’s the dog days of summer The crepe myrtles are in bloom Shining their pinks to Anyone who should care to look Black-eyed Susans stare intently At twilight’s last gleaming It’s the blue hour Clear and mad and repeating The same song you’ve known Since the beginning Purple coneflower, butterfly…
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Survivor
Sometimes when I look in the mirror I see my father’s body reflected back The same muscled arms Skin browned from summer sun Legs taut from constant activity Restless soul walking the same earth Playing out the same story Generation after generation Stone upon stone. But not looking doesn’t have…
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Tiny Earthquakes
I certainly hope you do not and will not meet your demise under a pile of books unless of course there’s an earthquake or many little earthquakes, tiny earthquakes shaking the tiny bit of ground they have because God damn it it’s theirs and what’s the point of living anyway…
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Tabula Rasa Then the Rest
The secrets I carry are not my own They were glued to my body by my mother with Rubber Cement glue to match the cement galoshes weighing down the body as it struggles to tread water in the ocean. Another wave crests and pushes our face our head under water.…
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Not the Story
The lake, flowing freely like an infinity pool bending back on itself curving figures, carving eights. It hypnotizes, swells when you consider: the depths, its depths, your depths. You plumb the depths with purpose probing and examining where you’ve been in order to draw a map to where you’re going.…
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Does the Camera Lie
Does the camera lie or does it tell the whole fat ugly truth from soup to nuts then back to soup again? The camera tells the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help us God close your eyes and close your gates Only neutral expressions welcome here people…
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American Sunrise
The things we do in secret to prepare for the Apocalypse I have always known the ending carry the same evil inside my body injected by my ______’s penis five or six years old the same evil Uncle Sam is pumping into your children I demand awakening through the gateway…
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A Living Sacrifice
You asked whether All the king’s horses And all the king’s men Could ever put Stephanie back together again Sometimes that’s the point of healing And sometimes it’s not Every system is different They say I run a boarding house for divergent emotions Inside my body No matches, sharps, or…
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Experience
to begin again this time knowing what we do now a quiet hope shards of light in Mason jars playing childhood playing June the scream always dying in your throat when nights were long lying at the top of the stairs listening for it to be over and then
Portrait…
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Placeholder
Only the wrens dare get close land on the table puff out their chests observe and flit flit and observe Their activity contrasts your lethargy soaking up the slanted rays of the Autumn sun different than before. You are here now like you were then only you guess at the…