poetryrepairs 15,05:057

CAROL SHILLIBEER : Indian apocalypse

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Indian apocalypse

1. on the highway at 70 miles an hour with a child who is fighting to die crumpling the horizon far-sky falls smooth blue cotton rent by fast-moving trees 2. fall fields, green hint of winter's crop clouds in broken columns vault flashing by but still goshawk waits 3. daylight through the off-hinged passenger door rear-view with a twisted neck cracked windshield it doesn't take long for 13-year-old to go down burning 4. just south of here is the creek where Palouse men were hanged kicking water burns white 5. farmers torch what remains of summer in the belief that it will nourish in nearby camas fields western meadowlarks song a yellow-feathered burn 6. edge of the freeway and stop we're both bleeding and your teeth sunk in my arm 7. there will be blue when the first-bird breaks distant cousins will sing night's avian silence 8. one old trail, also known as the I-90 without words just the way the hands and feet move toward communication comfort 9. on the highway oncoming and departing continue you try to meet them head on

poetryrepairs #212 15,05:057


CAROL SHILLIBEER Ethnopoetics tracks the mind that still wanders out of ways customary and lingers at the gate to see past the tree with iridescent leaves--their edges black- shadowing the stone wall that folds in against the forest. The gate is broken, and past there are boles that lead up hill beyond the plums, stately orchard's prize, now feral and beyond enclosure. There is a choice to go, to track, but wild wood points light's growth, and windy shadows quicken, constellating glyphs on the road. Found out there— irregular pleasures perhap, but still fine compositions; margins marked by track, deer, and columns scribed in native trunks. A choice, but making such a passage, finding, miles on, a viridian ceasura in which a lone tree branches fruiting dark nuts, seems as inevitable as protean syntax.

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The Next Step

The Next Step is to tell her I love her, buy her a gun, teach her to shoot, plan the escape teach her Greek to identify constellations The next step is to order a pizza & wings for delivery cut up the credit cards, empty the bank account buy the Farm, steal lobsters from the harbor The next step is to call her up at midnight with a hardon & a bourbon become a vegetarian, then an alcoholic go to 12-step meetings & leave at 9 join a monastery & do phone sex after dark The next step is to parse her poems for metric anomalies follow her car to the ghetto The next step is to visit her sister for sibling sex ask her husband for a date then don't show up, kidnap her children The next step is to bury her body ignore the lawyers with their briefs in their hands read the Bible The next step is to read these poems about her at open mics in sodden rock clubs, then get drunk & go home.

poetryrepairs #212 15,05:057

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Born of a union between an artist (ethnicity 2c) and a scientist (ethnicity 5b), Carol Shillibeer believes in fertile connections. Multiple ways of thinking, of hearing the world speak: adenosine tri-phosphate is a fundamental life metaphor. Her synaesthesia appear or are forthcoming in Ditch, CV2, Counterexample Poetics, inParentheses, Freefall Magazine, Adroit and others. You can find her at carolshillibeer.com