Monday, 17 December 2018

A poem by Skye Anicca

News On Your Birthday While Respirator Instructs Lungs, April, 2008


I

Canadian Red Beetles Devour Forests

first green then grey then red the voice said
it’s insects that matter of factly exhibit clues
the earth is softening, the seasons melting its edges
and there is no equation for which came first
just that there are beetles making matchsticks from forests
without time or flesh
there is no evolution no crisis
only this relentless crackling of branches this shell shedding
methodical munching
these red crawling tides

II

Balloon Flying Priest Lost

believers now require sacred carnivals
blessed ticket takers
and the damned— well, they seek a heavenly strike
solemn miracles and smoting
instead I choose laughter
and six hundred helium yellow blue balloons
above the pacific storm
a little bad weather
a touch of God

III

Impoverished Renegades Steal Cobalt

prices rise with the value of loosely bagged earth
fall when false claims of false cheating
float gracefully above calloused palms and sweat
miners night-pick cobalt while middle
men color houses with minerals
and mine bosses buy back what was carefully lifted
a five dollar bill for an airplane, a dishwasher, porcelain a brilliant blue
sediment hue dug from artistic trenches
strange-tinged, thieving lands

IV

Father of LSD Dead at 102

medical memory’s problem child
a stop-heart human guinea pig
sight like a “warped mirror,” he said
while he was searching for fungus
to cure some unnamed disease
a ”horror show” of displaced movement
and time he said,
self-discovery, enlightenment, drug sprees, window jumping
though he mounted the mind lubricant defense:
“open your eyes”










Skye Anicca is the recipient of a Dana Award in short fiction and grants from the Sustainable Arts Foundation and from the Vermont Studio Center. Her writing has appeared in Santa Monica Review, Alligator Juniper, Puerto del Sol, and Passages North.




No comments:

Post a Comment