by Susan | Apr 26, 2016 | National Poetry Month
There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself- Infinite, green, utterly untouchable. Angels swim in it, and the stars, in indifference also. They are my medium. The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights. A grey wall now, clawed and bloody. Is...
by Susan | Apr 25, 2016 | National Poetry Month
Bricks of the wall, so much older than the house — taken I think from a farm pulled down when the street was built -— narrow bricks of another century. Modestly, though laid with panels and parapets, a wall behind the flowers – roses and hollyhocks, the silver...
by Susan | Apr 24, 2016 | National Poetry Month
I prove a theorem and the house expands: the windows jerk free to hover near the ceiling, the ceiling floats away with a sigh. As the walls clear themselves of everything but transparency, the scent of carnations leaves with them. I am out in the open and above the...
by Susan | Apr 23, 2016 | National Poetry Month
You will be walking some night in the comfortable dark of your yard and suddenly a great light will shine round about you, and behind you will be a wall you never saw before. It will be clear to you suddenly that you were about to escape, and that you are guilty: you...
by Susan | Apr 22, 2016 | National Poetry Month
My black face fades, hiding inside the black granite. I said I wouldn’t, dammit: No tears. I’m stone. I’m flesh. My clouded reflection eyes me like a bird of prey, the profile of night slanted against morning. I turn this way – the stone lets me go. I turn that...
by Susan | Apr 21, 2016 | National Poetry Month
Is this where they dump those rebels, These haggard cells stinking of bucket Shit and vomit and the acrid urine of Yesteryears? Who would have thought I Would be gazing at these dusty, cobweb Ceilings of Mikuyu Prison, scrubbing Briny walls and riddling out impetuous...
