Mary Kasimor

 

 

Canvas # 10

flat Money speaking
palm So. honestly I
say I am, transferring
Metal of cultural
trace recombining events. into
service Exchange
if I were. necessary access
through pop-up soul.-Baring
a mixture of sex
and philosophical suspense
luck's in. The chicken soup
behind the locale a. time
Clock of work's beauty
not enough. business Time.
freeways converted, bathrooms
To Real. Decimals sanitized.

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a short tale

what is the scar
for?
     began the novel
and then acquires sequins
sewn
endings onto the fabric silk is
lovely from worms eating
rain
or ugly ducklings in the pond
in the city
              around
the rollerbladers figuring out
pi solutions on so many
mirrors cloudy in the summer
days
       go on and
on lemon
suns are dangerous behind
the wheel she looked
beautiful cool
             white hot
she controlled the ending
and lightning
catches what it can without
baffling fate
            when seasons
startled grasshoppers
then sequential numbers

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Fruits #5

bliss' gawkiness was
fools chasing tumbling
down the blue of blue-
                    Berries because
a girl stuck in the oven was
                           rescued by
herself and sincerely unbeatable
     odds hurling like Olympians
stuck between desert
          prophets of sunken pools
and mystical
                  fruits dangerous
sheep followed them
to the Green
                             glen on Friday
this happened with the goat
god who had not decided
                      directions
for the wind such a lament
hit the streets
                        another
rhyme
written on the sidewalk not
         a stitched quilt with
specific directions for the slaves
           but an arrow pointing

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change the tire


your fastidious ignorance
escapes another existence--
fake it        into the box
sealed but don't kiss
it       such an uproar! tonight
in weeping rooms
              people gaily
react     a Retrospective art
movement in the corner
the light twists a witch Hunt
hatching moths
my mother told me
to carry a flag If it rains
bullets      I surrender--
and the fields
gather bleakness build
a city      praise meant
change the Tire
the teachings are rolled up
hills because we couldn't
understand labor's
disclaimer advertising The sun

 

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bio/notes