[column width="300px" padding="10px"] What you said What you said about the family reunion Is exactly what you said when I begged Cheese from sheep or cow for the froth This narrative they keep heavy forging We survive all electric categorizations Shrink the story of three cities for these Hydrogen continues to be two parts The weather breathes a tortoise wind Walk against a chirping gusting billiard And trees for each color each hew[/column]
[column width="180px" padding="10px"] the cannoli myth avoiding the ricotta of giddy gossip hallowed yawns clipped swans calloused limbs gestational gluten pull the Atlantic east describing the grass the pallet disowns[/column] [end_columns] Verbatim Contradicting snake tests weed the festering from the ﬂoor. If you look up you’ll see a slanted linoleum sky. But, if you look down, you’ll ﬁnd your foot ﬂesh has decomposed. Leaving a skull foot thought walk where the ground used to be. The Season of Okra in Question Steel clenching into an aborted inﬂuenza percolating an updated vaccine. Daylight assuming the position of gazing mulls into a sunﬂower waste. We call this the winter of famine Okra. Will the printers press the ink? It is the question. The question an answer takes. Where will these vapid beings muster? What transforms friction into a viola of complacency? Is this the hunger sisters feel when offered a gilded rack of shade? Or is this a tousled arboretum funneled into a mange of months? Liz Mariani lives in Vermont. Her latest poems have been published in BlazeVOX, The Buffalo News, Artvoice, The Brooklyner, Fortunates and as part of The Tea Leaves Collection of Broadsides in collaboration with artist, Michael Morgulis.