Emily Liebowitz

Two Poems

Gone   To        Hide
How    To          Party

Daily sorts
support                        limbless
disagreements  scene: local
house haunted
               lenses soldiering space
                         erect mourning

Keep going

                         frame correction

Keep going

                         transcontinental lame

Enough mountains pound
             sprinkles into tiny towns:

             murder petals end
             punishing stalls to beach looms
             formed season other

Inherited horizon mutilates mask
trumpets           tapping           to
carry difference
they tap
             occupied present
over and over
sliding this spun past

Corralled cycles leak sharp
points               carry artifact:
limit signal present pulse: empty
             heaving heavies
of hurried color

Elect of
relative killed              bones swinging
porch and rafters
             farm image bleeding contempt
             to prize must mean memory
returns more than its got

Go on
                         covered seams

Grow on
                         lonely crime:

break apart singled: shorter
flag safety could be
           slits to a
parapet–there is nowhere
else to go          pipes geography
like      a                      five year old


Bring it 

Legend conversation
a post               to come
back                 to circling
structures    surround
paint-gardens               branching cornered
into broken

Make up mind
             with thatch roof envy
wakes with heads hanging

inviting taped sections to parade

This has nothing to do

We, city to make
             beautiful days, turn
              struggle into murals.

             Ruins of spiked red
brushes strain to
say, “pleasure takes
hung space: ambiguous
hint of breakdown: a singled piece of
                         The first representation
swallows sound.
Some call today, some step down
is occurring. No shift. A basement
rapidly storying, we may miss a tell of

             Broke frames of graded,

                                 we begin as
                           both, bare with
                   hammer in hand. A has

barriers to rebuild: sad, lost.
Blood to other, it is
it is not, this is too global::
You. Enemy. There.
I . Me. Here
stroked to cultivate, “is
with particular between space
changing                      scaffolds.
It is already happening.

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