National Poetry Month : Julie Carr,

 

 

Reckless Use (a rough-cut cento with Larry Eigner, Jennifer Bartlett, Edwin Torres, and CA Conrad)

 

I walk, I walk
the flowers seem to nod –                                                                   

I walk                           my one good wing       warily

flutters, the flowers seem to nod. Star me bitter
this night            I spill some sugar, I spill some

salt, my sister’s                           
ill. but she is not my sister     she is my river.

her mouthpiece              tries to find an ear.                                       
I mutter from my throat, cough.

she carries a masculine name – flanked by
birch. sycamore. brick. birth.

we walk

as the lampshade
hoards light, as the stairwell

draws down.

 

 

Julie Carr’s most recent books: Real Life: An Installation and Climate, written collaboratively with Lisa Olstein. Mud, Blood, and Ghosts: Populism, Eugenics, and Spiritualism: 1870-1930, is forthcoming next year.

With Tim Roberts she is the co-founder of Counterpath Press, Counterpath Gallery, and Counterpath Community Garden in Denver.