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2 poems by Jude Marr

Dream Job #3: A Posting From Winkieland by Chuck Von Nordheim
July 15, 2018
Noz by James Ezra
July 17, 2018

 

Crawlspace

mid-night digger in red

dirt: invisible, heard—

 

grubbing downward

toward water

pipes: not Styx—

 

almost love, almost

appetite: I am

a dildo, strapped—

 

armored, omnivorous

mamma: don’t hide

 

your bowl under

my house: come out

 

armadillo, brimming night.

 

Liber (Unbound)

when a book is opened with a knife

slice by slice, a scimitar of light

falls

on every unveiled page

 

lines rake straight as lashes on an ivory cheek

thumbs press into space where margins meet—

 

(spines crack

stitches break)

 

when a book is bent into an arc

cover kissing cover, lines

distend—

 

when a page gets gouged by margin

scribbles, words dribble

into gutters—

 

(paper shreds)

 

when a binding’s weak, pages fail

to separate/or, loosened

fall

leaf

by

leaf

to mulch—

 

(sentence death)

 

when objects deconstruct

books are fucked

 

but thought remains.

Jude Marr teaches, and writes poetry, as protest. Jude is currently a PhD candidate at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, and also poetry editor for r.kv.r.y. For links to more work, or to buy her chapbook, Breakfast for the Birds, please go to http://judemarr.com

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