Thursday, July 11, 2013

one size fits all...




mercy extended is 
truly mercy gained, 
a gift given by the giver
the grace of which
is utterly retained…

lucy meskill

Friday, July 5, 2013

comestible...




we
are the nightmares 
that pigs have
that cows have
sleeping fitful in fields —


they feel our hunger
like we feel lightening
crackling in leaden air
standing in a field
in a raging storm
beneath a big tree
whose conductive roots
we imagine travel all the way
to the place that we call home

— we strike from a distance
fiercely decisive, with appetites
that split living breathing beings
full of desire and longing 
clean down to the bone...

lucy meskill


Wednesday, July 3, 2013

read



here's the way the word works:
one, that I only lonely speak
at the two of the moon, and
why, that I whispering shout
at the scream on the wind, of
you, in the room with your
hands on the clock spread, to the
tick of the lock on the door,
like the bell in the head, of the
eye, through the hole in the leaf
of the how, do I sing in the night,
me, with the shoe in my hand
since the lamp where you stood
sounds, like a keen on the taste,
of a river of patches gone green,
loud, as a hovering lawn
on the slip of an island of
stay, till the sentence is done,
when the sentence begins in the
quivering, wavering howl
of the opening end of a, play

lucy meskill