Poem of the Day
The Channel
By Jana Prikryl
Humans are the animals
with speech who let all of his manuscripts
go poof.
Humans are the animals
with speech who let all of his manuscripts
go poof.
sweetly going with death; away from
me; plastic bag extending into infinity
She helps her son detach the kneecap from the leg
and wash it in the stream.
News
has it that late in the month the sun had an outburst
play a little music on the rooftop
get a body good and wet
just go crazy, I say now to the flower
The cat’s alone
and that allows it
to invent itself
While I wrote, a butterfly, that critic, rode my wrist.
The doctor had said he could fix everything
Except the eyes.
I memorized
my whole life in order
to release it
The end of autumn
unfolds in a series of textures and places:
rough towels, the laundry