by McKenzie | Sep 21, 2014 | Reading
to sound like itself is what water wants, to look like itself, to feel wet walloped by cinderblock, spars and bottles, the wanting-locked water lay down the wanting-locked water stank without lustre, it stank without lustre and we cut it with knives, we cut it...
by McKenzie | Aug 22, 2014 | Blog, My Poems
We’re too damaged to go back now, left a little too far open, lost moons, the open box-cutters with a blade that shines like glass against your hair, your eyes, the feeling of blade to skin. Watching you, this is how a river feels— too cool, too fast, a...
by McKenzie | Aug 21, 2014 | Blog, My Poems
I have asked my husband, What do you think she will look like? He frowns, and I know there is no answer. Not right now. All I know is beauty: crows bursting from a field, a candle flame, a gust of wind after rainfall. These things are beautiful, imprinted...
by McKenzie | Aug 21, 2014 | Blog, My Poems
The act is violent, the tearing open, the skin. I imagine bird claws, the talons, a wind breaking open between two buildings. The mouth, agape. And the arrival. Two shadows. August 20, 2014, MLT ...
by McKenzie | Aug 21, 2014 | Blog, My Poems
And then I look to the fall trees, and I wonder if they ever think, “I am running out of leaves.” They probably do, they with their tall, scarred bodies, launching outward and up. Sometimes, they are probably dreaming, or worse, waking. They open their eyes to...
