Issue 19




Three Poems


Elizabeth Robinson





On Dirt



A body unto itself, rancid golem.



The body releases a tuft of hair.




Dirt was amplified or exorcised in heat.



The body lets go



of the injury of birth, wiped



off.  A rumor, a





Dirt and its hex.




There’s only so much the body can carry.



This little sing-song made oily with



perfume emitted by removal.





On Quim



Flooding the place the


the body wanted to believe





human                      shore


came all the way to the sea water



The body


where solid and liquid



invert          their








ashore                    No body




knows itself from



outside itself is no



body    Tide’s fragrance           All


sense curling inhuman



whose wet overflowed



the wave’s comparison





On Blue



The afterlife is blue, this change

of thirst.    A figure


approaches a

greater, bluer movement,





heaven is not


the afterlife.   Pouring


heaven into

the vessel, a current,  absorbed until



the figure begins to bathe here,


unstill, in


the color—



drank as it


washed her body.  Who reached in

her hand


to soothe the onrush.










Elizabeth Robinson has published several books of poetry, most recently Three Novels (Omnidawn), Counterpart (Ahsahta), and Blue Heron (Center for Literary Publishing).  Her recent mixed genre book, On Ghosts (Solid Objects), was a finalist for the Los Angeles Times book award.



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