Amy Garrett-Brown – Three PoemsAmy Garrett-Brown
“One must not think life with the mind, but with opium.”
Sugar maple, varsity red, relative of the GRACE SMOKE TREE, a moog like thing:
leaves reach up when dry,
a mother/daughter-bird-like notice little inner chambers; loculi.
They are lactiferous vessels and carry two things.
One a magical luxury, famed cure of ennui,
a monumental discovery in fucking off.
“In 1803, Sertürner isolated a crystalline sample of the main constituent alkaloid . . .”
It grows a slate blue husk, bulbous and fertile, after the flowers have died
(the endless lecture, a field of poppies, satiety, and water stains on my hands,
waiting for the brilliance to pass into grey); there is a tool.
A relationship. Oily and symbiotic. Everywhere you look,
the milk-down the smooth sides, after being touched with a nushtar,
gently, it weeps a honey dew, a raccoon, a lemonade, a red-orange maple leaf.
She was lifted up: ascended. The next level, void of madness, mean a need for,Grey
slice the sides, you find black seeds, mosquito eggs, the history of Madak.
Acer rubrum a liaison for terracotta, white sand, terrorist assassinations,
a cream, more honey than dew, reprising dreams:
the parallel structure of a mosquito and an oil well.
“After all, romance has its didactic side as well.”
Extraordinary ray of
close-up cogwheel cow
gelatin has no
of light rays
goes around talking
I got from
The golden child
Here on, ordinary/un
like a like
“every anything . . . things drift”
. . . buzzing
black and red
when it rings clear.
gernal gone gun
journal gerund peri——od——-
snow in my pond
oh, ice (!)
the blue blue
no longer here
camouflage for “linger.”
metal, but it’s
diamond gun metal
inside the herd the edge of it
like a niece
after the fire
the edge of mountains:
the blue black of
how do we know
gernie journey germ——-in——–
germinate forecast reassurance,
indigo, like a dog,
rips at knees
fray egg liberty.
under the right
liquid (blue liquid,
isn’t it all?
A pitcher mold
a map with lapis,
a sea with rolling dragon
the edges torn
return to SHAMPOO 36
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