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Click title to download PDF microchap
Cover: What comes through
by Lauri Burke 2020
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(Set printer for landscape)
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Offspring
Your bright eyes push up into blue
and your limbs, like stalks,
climb the air with slight steps,
as if the atmosphere never pressed
its weight into you. Lifting,
as if light is thin and splits
to make way for you.
You taste of sunbeam and pollen.
My tendrils pull me taut,
tether me heavy to the dirt
where I can’t pull free
from root or worm.
Drudging, as if light is glue,
an emission confining me.
If only I could pluck a petal
from your fingertips and place it
between my ear and the earth,
I would hear the rush of the sky.
-originally published by Stirring
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My Matter
I matter in dust particles,
crossed bridges & flooding rivers.
I matter in carbon vapor & last chance
inhales. I matter to the pollen
in nasal passages, in dirt remains
caked beneath toenails—
the exoskeleton fragments
of passing. My matter resists. It pushes
into daylight—a dove's blurred wing,
a parachute fluttering and cutting
into atmosphere. Pressure peels
threads from my skin, unravels
into streams of floating string.
This is how
I dive.
-originally published by Whale Road Review
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Reconstructed Happiness
erasure in reverse of Ferlinghetti’s “I am Waiting”
Perpetually,
I am fleeing.
Perpetually,
I am my typewriter.
I am green.
I am my childhood.
I am wonder.
I am the dream
of innocence in Wonderland
and I am Tom Sawyer
and I am birth, music, sound
and I am reconstructed
happiness, the storms of life
and eternal life discovered.
I am anxiously new.
I am like rain
and I am the earth
and I am salvation waiting
to be called.
I am perpetually new again.
I am the channel.
Really, I am.
I am the state of revival,
a birth of wonder—
perpetually, I am.
I am anarchy.
I am waiting to up and fly.
I am a new discovery.
I wail.
I am someone
and I am,
I am waiting.
--originally published by Silver Birch Press
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Trish Hopkinson © 2020
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Trish Hopkinson is a poet, blogger, and advocate for the literary arts. You can find her online at SelfishPoet.com and provisionally in Utah, where she runs the regional poetry group Rock Canyon Poets and folds poems to fill Poemball machines for Provo Poetry. Her poetry has been published in several literary magazines and journals, including Tinderbox, Glass Poetry Press, and The Penn Review.