13.
Semi-automatic
Semi-automatic
The death of so many children should have changed everything
It in fact changed nothing
And we accept this as the new normal
And we throw up our hands in disgust as even background checks are shot full of holes
I don’t know what to do next
The emperor’s new clothes are even more impervious to blood and shit stains
I’m at a loss at how quickly we’ve become desensitized to the slaughter
America the Beautiful has always been a bloody, hopeful mess and to believe
differently just makes you one more white, entitled, embittered hypocrite
We took out the Native Americans because we wanted what they had
Now our children are standing in the way of more bang for our buck
We haven’t lost touch with our identities because we’ve always been scabrous
I am unclean as my country turns me away for asking too many queer questions
I’m not a junkie
Not even a patriot whatever that means
But I can read the scrawling on the wall
And I know we’re down for the count and quickly turning comatose blue
It in fact changed nothing
And we accept this as the new normal
And we throw up our hands in disgust as even background checks are shot full of holes
I don’t know what to do next
The emperor’s new clothes are even more impervious to blood and shit stains
I’m at a loss at how quickly we’ve become desensitized to the slaughter
America the Beautiful has always been a bloody, hopeful mess and to believe
differently just makes you one more white, entitled, embittered hypocrite
We took out the Native Americans because we wanted what they had
Now our children are standing in the way of more bang for our buck
We haven’t lost touch with our identities because we’ve always been scabrous
I am unclean as my country turns me away for asking too many queer questions
I’m not a junkie
Not even a patriot whatever that means
But I can read the scrawling on the wall
And I know we’re down for the count and quickly turning comatose blue
12.
Bear 2
Bear
went noodlin’ for breakfast this morning
Trout
{3} had inch deep claw marks in their
ruddy-thick-skin
Bear stared into those
fish
eyes—beady—obnoxious things
His
wide palms made it easy to hold his prey—
Easy
to catch me once I turned my back
He’s
left scars on my breasts
Tore
through thin skin on my neck
Shredded
inner thighs Burrowed {his claws} into me
hoping
to find honey Something sweeter that’s
been
chewed through in my infancy
Bear
licks my salted wounds He dreams of caramel
I
gnash my teeth together My tongue tastes like
nickel
Bear wants to mold me into Poppet Into Toy
Into
Plaything He’s been spending so much time in
water
lately He starves me of meat and bone
I am
sweaty Urine soaked—Bloody
Soon
I won’t be playing dead
~Jennifer E. Hudgens~
*
11.
~Jennifer E. Hudgens~
*
11.
Bear 4
Bear
has been feeding me dirt for days
My
body feels ugly and heavy He tells me
he
loves me with every tablespoon—full
Says
he wants me fertile He is tired of feeling
orphaned
Tired of putting up with my shit
I can
no longer hear trains nearby
There’s
a faint smell of syrup
and
decomposition
It is
the first time since my Father died that I
recognized
that smell
Bear
was always in love with sweetness
and
gore
{Gore}
came after he’d spent all of his
charm
There are gnats and flies kissing me—fancy
Bear
asked me if I’d like to dance
No
shoes I ain’t got no shoes
He
hammered rusted nails into my ankles
Pinned
my feet against the stars
~Jennifer E. Hudgens~
*
10.
~Jennifer E. Hudgens~
*
10.
Bear 5
Bear
brings in a rusty metal pail
Shoves
his left paw into it—hungrily
He
raises a moldy—dripping sponge
The
smell of chlorine bleach wafts into
my
nostrils Burning my nose hairs
Some
of the gnats die immediately
My
skin feels like it is peeling
Radiant Excruciating
If I
scream Bear might cut out my tongue
Might
make me food for worms/crows
We
are both exhausted {pig slop}
I
barely mustered a soft Why?
Bear
paused Teeth swallowed
Mumbled
I love you {I have never been
lovable}
Scrubs
me raw I am {hospital} clean now
Everything
is fire/fine
I
start to black out again
Droplets
of water slow
~Jennifer E. Hudgens~
*
~Jennifer E. Hudgens~
*
9.
Bear 8
I
fell asleep in the pile of leaves
In
the morning I felt small bursts of heat
Thought
foolishly I am free
Bear
had given up and I was free
I
needed to move To crawl out
My
legs and arms felt like warm gelatin
Light
steps of rabbits Perhaps fawn—
I was
hallucinating I wasn’t ready to let go
To be
loved to pieces Torn apart by pinchers
or
teeth or claws Bear wanted me
doll
parts He told me I had perfect lips
once
What
a curse perfection has gotten me
Thought
of my Father Would he be ashamed
if I
gave up Letting myself die in these
woods
Starved
or bled onto cool ground No, he
would have told
me to
stop making excuses
Heal thyself, Witch
8.
Bear 9
What
do {the} flies on the wall say to each
other
Do they speak at all I
tried to climb out
of
the hole again Above
where it smelled like
sulfur
So much like burning I began
to crawl
to
dig my way out of losing Of
this sentence
Away
from this unforgiving patch of woods
I no
sleeping beauty He no
prince charming—
the
ache in my body made me a paused cassette tape—
Idling
until sound begins to
break
My
hearing became muffled
I could
no longer hear him growling
The
water What
if
the
river was closer than he was My
gut grumbled
Tore
through my esophagus Was
this what hell feels like—
Growing
a demon inside my belly I
began to hear
birds
chattering Flying away Startled
I felt pressure on
the
left side of my face Hot
musky scent
I swallowed
some of my own blood Two of my molars
~Jennifer E. Hudgens~
*
~Jennifer E. Hudgens~
*
7.
RUMORS OF CROCODILES
Is a
mirror our visual echo?
Are
scanty feathers all we need
to
survive this impossible age?
Perhaps
we should dip our feathers
into
the Messiah’s designer blood
smeared
earlier today across
a
gilded hundred-story tower
sporting
a high fashion runway
with stilettos
prepared to kick up
the
dust layered for centuries
upon
our tarnished mirrors.
Alas,
it appears I’m in dream #9,
#6,
#7, or some other number
dripping
from a corroded arrowhead
snout
orbiting high above the void.
~Alan Britt~
*
*
6.
Going
They leave at 5am,
in red dawn,
in winter stockings,
rings
sparkling,
fading into the frozen
town,
sitting heavy, bunched
on seats,
an umbrella, fat with
old rain,
a notebook, clutched.
It is time.
He guides her along the
lanes, ash eyes
like blackened goblets,
fingers of mountain stones,
while wheels spin,
the radio bleeds a sobbing
tune.
Clouds rise, the
crumpled sun
envoys crows, tossed
breadcrumbs
divine the garden, it is
blossom month,
5.
Sintering
Her mother always spoke
of roads,
she said, all
life is forwards, her eyes
followed her words, the
forest in her glance,
the shadows of trees
moving back and forth
in moonlight, her limbs
like vessels
of water, despite the
wrinkles lining her eyes.
The mother told her
daughter,
you are a city with high
walls and many gateways.
She was seventeen when a
clear glow
distracted her and she
ran away,
like a lamp, wick
curling in the dark,
a horse leaping in
crimson air.
And so, it goes on.
We will write what we
can write,
we will know what we can
know,
our histories hold their
surface tension,
when the water
withdraws, the bones
are there, like eternal
islands that can
only be reached by
chance.
We paint our futures on
glass vessels,
Slow
drags on the joint under the slow
dragging sun.
We drag our feet.
We drag our dreams. We dress
in drag
Drag
is a sort of love.
Love
is a cobweb
you eat
with a friend.
drags on the joint under the slow
dragging sun.
We drag our feet.
We drag our dreams. We dress
in drag
Drag
is a sort of love.
Love
is a cobweb
you eat
with a friend.
*
3.
LITTLE ONE
I can't
speak,
can only nuzzle
against the midwife's
wrinkled throat.
can only nuzzle
against the midwife's
wrinkled throat.
Someone
snaps a photo.
Won't they be surprised
when that picture shows
an old woman holding nothing.
Won't they be surprised
when that picture shows
an old woman holding nothing.
I will
always be this age.
I won't grow.
The sounds I make now
will be with me
for the next five hundred years.
I won't grow.
The sounds I make now
will be with me
for the next five hundred years.
Bitten
at six months,
my head holds my predator's wisdom.
Is it my fault
that my body doesn't look the part?
my head holds my predator's wisdom.
Is it my fault
that my body doesn't look the part?
And
yes, I am cute
but I give new meaning
to the words 'breast feeding'.
but I give new meaning
to the words 'breast feeding'.
~John Grey~
*
2.
SIDE-EFFECTS
Josie's
left cheek is blemished
by five parallel ridges.
She says it's a side-effect of spirits.
These other women form a circle,
giggling and chatting,
as if communication with the dead
is this week's fad, paranormal Trivial Pursuit.
She knows better.
by five parallel ridges.
She says it's a side-effect of spirits.
These other women form a circle,
giggling and chatting,
as if communication with the dead
is this week's fad, paranormal Trivial Pursuit.
She knows better.
Josie
remains calm but serious,
joining hands and encouraging
the others to link up also.
Lights are dimmed.
Her head bows,
lids close over
her ordinary vision.
Then her mouth jolts open,
as if forced from within.
A low moan is followed by
a tapping sound, a floating face,
candelabra waltzing through the air.
And then a voice,
deep and ponderous,
asks, "Who is it disturbs me?"
joining hands and encouraging
the others to link up also.
Lights are dimmed.
Her head bows,
lids close over
her ordinary vision.
Then her mouth jolts open,
as if forced from within.
A low moan is followed by
a tapping sound, a floating face,
candelabra waltzing through the air.
And then a voice,
deep and ponderous,
asks, "Who is it disturbs me?"
For a
half hour or more,
this spokesman for the other-worldly
entertains the assembled
with what they wish to hear
or terrifies them with all
they'd prefer to remain unspoken.
this spokesman for the other-worldly
entertains the assembled
with what they wish to hear
or terrifies them with all
they'd prefer to remain unspoken.
Finally,
Josie snaps her head back,
all strange sounds and sights cease.
The light's switched on.
The look on her face is of bewilderment
The women are impressed.
One is happy that her husband forgives her
for leaving that sliver of soap in the tub.
Another's daughter, missing in San Francisco,
is irrevocably found in the after-life.
Josie's face shows the strain of others' emotions.
One scar instantly heals. Another welt takes its place.
all strange sounds and sights cease.
The light's switched on.
The look on her face is of bewilderment
The women are impressed.
One is happy that her husband forgives her
for leaving that sliver of soap in the tub.
Another's daughter, missing in San Francisco,
is irrevocably found in the after-life.
Josie's face shows the strain of others' emotions.
One scar instantly heals. Another welt takes its place.
~John Grey~
*
1.
1.
SCENES FROM A GRAVEYARD
a
graveyard full of owls
or who in hell
is doing all that hooting?
or who in hell
is doing all that hooting?
a
moon-tinted walk
each footprint
devouring the decaying soil
around it
each footprint
devouring the decaying soil
around it
everything
fluid and bloody
even the cold
and the rancid smell
of yesterday's mourning lilies
even the cold
and the rancid smell
of yesterday's mourning lilies
a
back-slapping toast to the dead
to skulls cracked like jokes
by the rain-bloated ground above
to skulls cracked like jokes
by the rain-bloated ground above
leave
your vision
at the mausoleum door
bring only your connection
to the baying trees
and the shriveled roots
that bear to them dark fruit
at the mausoleum door
bring only your connection
to the baying trees
and the shriveled roots
that bear to them dark fruit
sit
atop a tombstone
names and dates
will enter you from below
names and dates
will enter you from below
it is a
night
for relinquishing
the job at hand
for writing an ode to worms
and their bloodless brood
for relinquishing
the job at hand
for writing an ode to worms
and their bloodless brood
to
everything with a taste for human flesh
but not for humanity
but not for humanity
~John Grey~
