The Poetry Brothel transforms BSP in Kingston into a turn-of-the-century Bordello on September 17.
Time Out If I jump on the bed
My neighbor dies the other day. Today I go to his wake.
A pillowy kingdom, some hidden cave— an exquisite silence is what I crave
the yellow paint on your bedroom walls is the opening act for the sunlight.
Your ravaged eyes picture librettos long known by heart,
And at county active fairs Young girls buy ribbons
Vows The night of the wedding
do not give. do not hide.
You leaned forward So I could hear...
He hovered over me, watched my every move.
Do not) tell me I am a bright-eyed child
Green vegetation Manufactured in bulk by
They dance on the leftover air of September Still showing their full green gowns
It all seems new; the sky hasn't been this color since Antietam. And everything is calm.