“To Be of Use” by Smog


I wish I could plant a whole field / for Bill Callahan. A simple suit edged / with diamond. It would grow crowns / made of cliffs / with deer on them. It would grow / bodies that could make whole other rattle / with their mouths. Rattle / simple and oil and forest lace. A voice that imitates the winding up / or climbingfall of a flare gun. A voice / a clot / a bay / fucked / haunted / following cattle. Animals or people or the swamp in between. A startling thing.

The tenderness sculpture / I’ve touched. It was / given to me. The boldness of flaking / I thought. The darkness / of delicacy. N and I were pausing / in Iowa City. N / J / K / and I took the sculpture / the white flowerbone to the graveyard / past the Black Angel / past the headstones with cartoons on them / into the forest / that became a field / and then a stringy creek. We buried the sculpture there / its strangeness. We read over it / jaw harps. N put his foot on the moved dirt / the covering / to pack it down. It crackled / the breaking underneath / the sculpture / the thin nest. It was shattering / a burying / noise / coming / through.

-Carrie Lorig

photo (1)Carrie Lorig is a poetry editor at Coconut Magazine and at NOÖ Journal, as well as the author of several chapbooks, including NODS. (Magic Helicopter Press), Labor Day (Forklift, Ohio) w/ Nick Sturm, and rootpoems (Radioactive Moat) w/ Sara Woods. A full-length book, The Pulp Vs. The Throne (Artifice Books), is due out next spring.

Questions, compliments, (hopefully not) complaints?

Contact Jackie Clark: jackie [at] coldfrontmag [dot] com.

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