THERE’S A PIECE
Mysterious with scales, they are the first
and longest
The parts which join here are knot
and glass
When I push it
When I push it there is minimum teeth and aw
sits when I push it it is vast.
Sometimes on accordance of the the animal
drop
gets inside the hat and then I have to go
in farther than I wanted to
This could go through
Or wear its sheet from such an odd report that
It could throw ass...
Or maybe fit in frame if I sort of “joggle joggle” on the
porch swing while swearing “fists
up!” in the manner of a
shoo. This could be you
but there’s a piece that’s rough and hard and pours
fast–it could go
boo.
THE SHOUT OF HOLD
Clomb to the proud, a floater fanned by breeze,
twenty four hours to stay filthy, this was Old
January. Many-hued pebbles and bear-plated shields
formed what answered to remind me of
gifts, the softened ball patterns and filtered down
fills were for new done fence. Left out to all in stains.
If I could man the full of that and fold it into us (to
stuff)
the force that won’t rule tentative would weaken—
no less
The shout off-hold would soft remain of course in
what could be said in language, and from
there at all things proliferated.
Wrote quickly, dim summer
As a coda of violent entry’s
New endings—I heard an armor clap in the other
room
and that was when the season ended.
Elise Houcek is the author, most recently, of From the Pocket of Agent Dickinson, a lysergic neo-noir poet’s novel cowritten with Zack Darsee out now from Inside the Castle. Her writing has recently appeared in FENCE, Diva Corp, Vestiges, and new_sinews. She teaches writing to kids and runs Ludi Juvenales, a poetry, art and games series publishing the immature work of adult writers.