Intellectual Property as a Result
recently I signed a contract / which stipulates anything / I conceive of as a result / of the job belongs to the job
recently I signed a contract / which stipulates anything / I conceive of as a result / of the job belongs to the job
When I got up before anyone else / I took the heavy clams from the fridge / and put them in a bowl of cool water.
Niina Pollari reads the title poem from her new collection published by Soft Skull Press
When I got better I ate / attention, the praise for being alive. There is no praise now. A needle, / a sharp’s box, yellow asking me to slow down.
everything shifts as she twists and spins her hair, lifting it to chignon. / So self-assured, as if the gesture were always hers
your lonely ain’t alone if it’s waiting for him
at night, when i’m outside and / the wind shakes the chimes, it sounds like the bell
Everything is an elegy these days, all chipped rings, / clipped wings.
There were two worlds then, the one we lived in and the one she invented, where my aunt remarried and nobody ever went to America
the smoke of belt burn / and nectarines and me / — I will learn to love him
there is little room for sourness, / little room for anything other than a vibrating joy
The world was a changed thing / a variant of its former self, and you were / A new ripple in the miles-deep pool of time, / that one breath strumming the tender / Chords of the system.
Dear sudden inspiration, creeping uncertainty, tiny splinter of glass, / sometimes you cannot be enough.
In a time lapse, nothing happens smoothly. / Red horns quake as they splinter / from limbs on the bottlebrush.