Karyna McGlynn


--a found poem from my inbox

! starlight or but battleground
crater may altar some
obstetric may gurgle

bertrand may it's petrol
grim on intolerant exploit,
transmittance !

try a shakespeare
or astrophysicist
or claudia in some botanist
woke in flirt, see the hoover

engineer in nightingale
graceful transceiver
molehill try !

fountainhead zone libretto.
ruffle on the expositor
see the byron, the italy

blend, but stepwise
bimonthly the laudanum, the alchemy
some carry ! or a petticoat's

epigrammatic discussion indistinct ! the logic
it's defendant some siege be but rummy
in schizophrenia see armor not.

it's formidable
some wakeful indolent
but inhuman sin calfskin

Update on site.
Update on site.


Everywhere I look, his kleenex & voufas

        , his nastiness
        , his rangetop jhee cheese
        , his milky white Glacenal bottles
        , his lutso-pick-jam
        , his new-age Fangti
        , his globular winiab
        , his Maxwell House dkorun
That's my Neddy.
That's my Nix, he & his
uncontrollable tongue flicks
lecherous on my doorstep.
I met him during the Trirels,
trir stink of his explanations in my eye.
Les œufs and les ozadas: you know,
...running branma fanahmanah,
Brizhack Brizaerigsteed...
"Oh, oviaosee!" as he stepped on my toes,
fucked my perfect preppy lewprels & sat
in the seat behind me, agikeiding
and weilding a Sharpie.      T_geo failing,
I tried to see him-turned my head to spy
his gmitmitt face & his shoeless lutslo.
I swear, Asohaes are in order, a big banquet
to clebrate the removal of my roommate,
the helpless nixwiniab. Have I no shame?
"Quobadsveo?" he (flick, flick) asked.
"Badsveo," I said
"Quobadsveo now?" he asked with jhee on his face.
"Now, Neddy," I said
"Now, Nix."


Yo, pillbug pillaging
the art-hut tubs--

all you know's in the dough,
make me a doodle?

Three hooks on a wood plaque:
hat, HOME, thank you for not smoking.

Everything is wet here.
Nothing may be touched.

Have a button.
Paint a plate.

Mask, mea culpa, macramé owl--
do you miss yr mommy?

I do.
I glue.


Whole    cleaved
sex    a segmented clove
if you
s-p-e-l-l-e-d     i-t     o-u-t
(the thrill!)    succinct clatter
of sexual certainty
erotic detritus     all over
your yard     tongue typed
in the air   hard curled

-a cock there
-a question mark?
only my body resolves
an honesty    clings for once
where we've boiled off
the ice quips the clever nips
and said: to the other    c'mere.


With your dick between my legs,

you ask: what up?
you ask me a pointed question
but it's too hard to answer.
you don't breathe.
You're like this stiff I saw at a funeral once
(he had on orange eye shadow and I went,
like, totally necro for about three seconds).
you feel lucky, but, no; it's more than that.
You are a commuter with the right of way;
your finger flicks through morning radio
as you suck the whip off a giant mocha.
you've got a big head.
You flare your nostrils and smile fatly.
you secretly hum the theme from Shaft.
a vein in your forehead pops and the whole room
smells like canaries as the aneurism comes
all over your face.

e-mail the poet at karyna@umich.edu
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