by Annaliese | Dec 24, 2016 | Poetry, Poetry, SELECTED WORKS
The shutter catches the reedy boy and his size 44 pants dancing around his hips, the click of metallic and plastic and synchronization familiar in my ear, under my finger. But after he is gone, really gone, and I have processed all of the old rolls of film, every one,...
by Annaliese | Dec 24, 2016 | Poetry
The shutter catches the reedy boy and his size 44 pants dancing around his hips, the click of metallic and plastic and synchronization familiar in my ear, under my finger. But after he is gone, really gone, and I have processed all of the old rolls of film, every one,...
by Annaliese | Jun 29, 2013 | FULL COLLECTION, Poetry, Poetry, SELECTED WORKS
She leans into my body. Hotdance enters my stiletto heels. “Teri, is that you?” she asks. Her eyes insist I must remember how to bandage raging arms stitch emptied eye sockets dam up blood rivers wipe the spit. She waves her thin arms into the night. Timedance slows...
by Annaliese | Jun 29, 2013 | FULL COLLECTION, Poetry, Poetry, SELECTED WORKS
Drink up, I tell you. It’s only my Mum. A cup of real woman. Dead six years, cremated at McHoul’s on Center Street – most of her, they tell me, filtered out through the stack, sucked into the clouds, blown high over goldenrod-stained fields, drizzled into the West...
