Friday, December 4, 2020

Julia Drescher : Three poems

 

 

Untitled (after Norma Cole)

hey all you rivers & crossing rocks, collusion!

hey all you unstayed friends we’re of & in. grew legs & crawled

like a country song the bricks.

there was a whole concept made pregnant, little mandibles of ant

we think sentience is. hey all you

crickets the yard is thick with (every insect sound is a cricket) or here’s hey all you.

particle-men on the one hand make a list.

vowels stretch within the no or show of language &

hey all you make drawings friends. hello then is

I hope you make it there alright.

 

 

 

 

 

from SLOW MUSIC

 

you said misapprehension occurs when you think

you can apprehend. the big white patch that dreams you up

having the urge to spit inevitable adjectives or fuck

the distance that measures itself against us. like seeing a face where there is none.


not from the burning plucked but already burned down. at the edge of

town emerging from the scrub within having finished walking with

the dogs you see a man about to come into where you've just been

holding a rope with a dog at the end in one hand a machete in the other hand a narrative.

 

 

 

 

why is it “Roofs” & not “Rooves”?

 

a snare (not a drum), an issue of blood. there is

 

a creature who lives inside me as if he is at home, & he is. I am

easily deceived into thinking—a human being. it is

 

our sense of sight that tells us a body is free & we come into breaking,

bridging, buckling mouths. but the question was about how to be a house

 

without doors? or a stall with no horse? if pressed, I might could show

what difference there is between inheritance & infection, but not what distance.

 

 

 

 

 

Julia Drescher's most recent publications include the chapbooks ANTIBIOGRAPHY (FOBW, 2020), BLATTA and METASTATIC FLOWER (above/ground press, 2020) & a full-length collection OPEN EPIC (Delete Press, 2017). She lives in Colorado.