White Print Inc

Emily Brent

block dog barks non-stop bug
deep folded in comfrey flowers lavender
over yesterday’s lucidity
ice of pot
a rusted-shut birdcage.

wild flow
take off er
er upt ann’s lace coughs
“aint nothin gonna fill ma soul”
last spray rose
brown edge july

morning heat in a backyard pit
where she slept
a damp cadaver
brought her a fake Rolex
then tied itself to the railroad tracks.
the whole town watched as a train billowed
and struck down dead
wails the warning blow.

by mid-morning she had recovered her senses,
the fake Rolex took sun into its mouth and shot her in the eye with it.
wake up found sound
chants her best friend
pearly yellow cockle kiss
my kitchen sloppy in

smells  like cooked flesh.
arm.
watch
the fake Rolex eat glass diamonds 12 3
4 5 7 10 4 1

sun back skyward flash es fish
pelting so dry
skin fry
exposed monarch veins of day lily self
one after noon after
dies in even end.

.

Emily Brent

Sand wind sand cube
uncountable cubes of glass
sanding
winding
dry = cutting
6 thi s roa d
is a sand y 1

want so me mo re?
sand in the tee th
es and your mama ‘ s too th
s o mu ch s a n d dry
eye ye ar e sand ori fices faces wra p p ed in clo the (-e)
stop sand from pouring in side the shack
a little watter (-t) les s hack
mudsnot made sand y and wate r make
gla ss cu bes
=dry =cutting =i
i i i i i i i i i i i my yie ey, eye

Emily Brent

Black birds White onve spike sala si me le do to os ka ah ski
skin brink break morn moon sliver bb bullets

one rooster pecked another
mangled head

tongue cramp
chew swallow or talk
tastes like sunshine on bluesky bread

its five am well of words
she make surface move

i like foods. A simple sentence
gathers grapes

pesticide white ears

go
gravel in the train’s
horrified wail

she breathes dust

a block of government cheese
relaxes
ten dawn again
ten cha cha ten tion

tree branjes shadow vase lodge
d
in her windpipe a poison almost

talks dangerous to god

finding the right words to tell him
finding the right words to tell
finding the right words
the right words
right words
words

A telling puzzle

which word is whick
whick is which word

his words

mine
faulting
the easter sky

one day before april
i woke up 7 times
“find me a place to rest my head”
dad said

a spot
that will not

Emily Brent

kkjkkkkjkejjekkekjjrjjjjekjjrjjrjkksls
snickering
hahahahhahahahahahahhhhahahahahahhahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahawooooooooohoooooooooo
two twins and a siren (who)
woooooooooooooohooooooooooooooo
flooding blood
my mine.

D’moon fades completely.  not him but her light.
.unillumened
redspot-on thiside of things

my eggs died!!
the little hen cries

haha ha ha haha ha ha

all the way hahahaha-home

uninvented pace (s) darker than tomorrow,
a-decrypt()ight
parkpath built of her hahahahaus bricks

mama spider’s eggtimer counting
scarlet spelled backwards telracs one sand

–
spilled but not
erastlc.

pieces of plexiglass plastic
taking on the color of a moon.
less night
than
–

2 giant plastic balls irradiating plastic thoughts.
tomorrow is darker
then may
middle of the riddle

the.

2 giant plastic
in may3ice

out of gas.
—-

one ball is covered in a milky film
ball two at the end of a breath makes

seeing into the difference between hearing listening

a tunnel painted “and”
like “and” was a pit with
paint at the other end a
seeing.

one ball is her orbital drying fish
sun
–

“the one eyed dog coming, the one eyed dog is coming”

two spaces round and red exactly alike but one no flesh

your fish feels good against my twin

she turns to me while i
sleep a sleep
she poses me
questions camera i am
a

red sand blood on her pants
on one sand her hand
he,

gave a yellow leaf

a blanket obsidian.

Emily Brent

industrious green chemical
alters silver
brick sunken
steps surface
hold the shore from sliding endless
into the river outside my
poem

it washes, murmur obscure
blends the poem bank
rain and tornadoes green silver as
aspen waves in the
non sun

river induced thunder bricks
beholden
unto the untrained poem
surface air
drowns reflection disordered
ripples

mirror nothing but convolution
my finger a blade of grass sticks its probing
needle center
where storm round green recedes
a fraction of sky

my nightmare song finds
pretty little ditty
dispelled

brown a bottom
less night
mid than evening
wonder of gray half-eye

arbitrary divisions separate poems her twin
spider wire on glitter land dandelion-seed water

sense and non-sense
poetry and non-poetry.

eye and non-eye
two halves of the same confusion

twisted double helix rabbit hole
third forehead gave birth to a
feet-first twin
feet first

as circus music kills its mother
myth

the history of evil is not good

a crow in wave is not black

not water not sky not land not crow

not surface bottom not aspen not bank
not poem not outside not inside sense

to get in is a crow in wave is her thin twin trying

Emily Brent

Bee hive yellow box filled with wax hexagons chirping hay and high planes grass wood wall of clean water green tinted rose bag blows sinister ice song cream con man in the clown suit and tie black shoeshine nose drug red dozens on a charcoal stick grill an opisidian head slick eight holes in face the picture non-discript oil scherenschnitte.  magnesium A chair the person who sits not there inside bee box.  fried eggs corridoras de miel unsweet communion the soul not breaking her stale desert. everyone says, “its a nice day” isnt it? bees cream no answer from old man’s rusted face in balloon bees go dizzy as clocks. back hive again to where vacuum cleaner.  sound empties