Poetry Blog by Alex Smith
means bringing something with me
warbler, brown, yellow back
in his winter range, would have fit in my hand
if I sat with my palm open
for how many hours or days
so of course I brought a cat
who kept nearly drowning - I would fish him out
from the ditch next to a field we favorited
with a heart. He wanted to pounce
but every move was wet, and no place
was solid en...
Sunday 5th November 2017 3:33 pm
Under the engine
with my tank
full of clouds
the rows of plants could be anything
through fogged goggles
could be everything for me to touch
So that when you come near
I hear only the engine
and I am ready
Sunday 5th November 2017 3:31 pm
Gametes are necessary precursors to sexual reproduction. Gametes differ genetically from other human cells in that they __________.
seek a willing
During the process of meiosis, crossing over can occur. Draw a diagram of a crossing over event:
Take your love
with my shame and
Thursday 16th March 2017 9:42 am
When I was very young I had a sister.
Her name was Jessie, and she was two things:
she was a floppy bear with long brown fur
and she was a way into
OK, so Jessie was my little sister -
I looked out for her and helped her grow up,
because I was her big sister,
even though I was a boy.
With Jessie I felt differently,
I knew different ways to act
and I could teach her
what a girl was, ...
Thursday 2nd March 2017 11:56 am
what we have now is a photo:
Katherine and I with the wedding cake
under a park shelter
and there he is outside
in the background alone and small
and brilliant in the sunlight.
He called me once to talk about fungi:
their dark networks
that join the living and the dead
but that was before he went into the basement
and Katherine pressed the button
and his body released into the air
Friday 6th January 2017 12:16 pm
In the house
we found rooms full of paper
where he wrote
what we should have known
in such detail
that there wasn't much to say.
This was the year
of the election
when everything was going to change
but in there it had already
and it was for us
to fill our arms with the pages
and to carry
Saturday 31st December 2016 12:51 pm
He stands white and alone,
One smokestack raised above
As one who burns eternally.
I am fidgeting in front of
my calm father.
We are moving incessantly
And without purpose
On all sides;
So many children to provide for,
And he indulges us
With silent love.
Shields us from the world
Where everything burns, is burning
And we too are fire.
Tuesday 21st June 2016 10:53 am
Plants in the tunnels
are barely growing
in this cold
I am barely here
In the winter
I fall back on old habits -
headphones, lines of code
the remote stars
I want growth and decay
to pound me awake
need the hot crisis of summer
to pin me to my body
But I have only
these tiny green threads
to tend, and the slight
pull of their becoming,
Tuesday 26th January 2016 3:14 pm
Insects replace the snow
of late December
and I give myself
to no cause but living.
The blossoms are all wrong.
set them bursting in winter
and I can only say it reminds me
of another story
where the heroine takes shelter
in a machine that drops birds from the sky -
but what does that tell you?
My best instincts
could send us migrating
to a dead sea.
I can onl...
Tuesday 26th January 2016 3:13 pm
I noticed it after impact,
convulsions and some blood.
She said we weren't made to die.
I turned off the trimmer,
knelt to the jerking creature
with my harvest knife.
In the New world, nobody will ever die.
The movement did not stop
for several moments.
I buried the body; re-started the machine.
In the New World,
we will all be tending vineyards.
Monday 20th July 2015 12:30 am
Got to be something dark -
Peasant Queen status update:
"don't want to be a farm manager
living in a rental when I'm 33"
Slime molds live individually
in decomposing matter
(spent the last six years touring;
need time to be myself)
until scarcity forces them together
and they mass, and fruit
"if only those people in Baltimore had done yoga
instead of tearing the city apart"
Sunday 17th May 2015 3:48 pm
There is a narrative for new farmers:
"I am making a lot of mistakes
but look, I am really doing something!"
Look at my hands - brownish and not so soft
and my pants covered in dirt and a drop of blood
(that's right, I can kill an animal).
Of course I could gain the signifiers
without throwing myself into difficult and unprofitable work
for which I have little training,
but I need s...
Sunday 10th May 2015 6:33 pm
You welcome me into your space
built with careful love
gentle on wounds;
A refuge in the damaged world.
I do not need this shelter.
are accepted everywhere.
petty, self-inflicted things
accustomed to sympathy.
Be wairy of me.
I will claim this space
with my scent
vomit my shame
at your feet.
Sunday 22nd March 2015 10:09 pm
Call me an oppressor;
I slurp the shame like dick
sucked by the women I watch
especially when it stops being sexy
(flip to a poem about the trail of tears)
enough guilt in my ancestry
to melt any erection.
Getting caught in the act.
I seize opportunities for guilt.
As a vegetarian, I am first to volunteer
at the chance to kill an animal.
As a white man, I rush off
Sunday 22nd February 2015 4:00 pm
isolates the mechanism
the final solution again
We know more about
as in tissue cultures
cell division and
programmed cell death
form a simplified heartbeat;
a measurable quantity.
Sunday 4th January 2015 12:43 am
In the passport office there is a city
of tall white towers above blue water;
a green forest hugging the outskirts.
A city in a poster above a desk
where requests to cross borders
are granted or denied,
and a press of people,
hundreds of people,
none of whom are visible in the white city.
There is no place among the clean towers
for this swarm of bodies
that reek of charcoal;
Sunday 7th December 2014 11:25 pm
The market is a tunnel of small lights
where people, barely visible,
pass in the tight space
between candle yellow, LED blue.
In a language of object and shadow,
batteries, cooking oil, soap,
spell out a secret message
to shoppers in the dark.
Sunday 7th December 2014 9:41 pm
The shallow grave sank.
A quantity of gasses, liquids, soft tissues
the earth above
Stolen vegetables in belly
(motives for the killing)
along with her eyes
along with her skin
into one subsidence.
Still buried were the snapped spine,
and claws that grasped at crushing bars.
Sunday 23rd November 2014 9:21 pm