6 Poems Julie Doxsee

BUT A FLOOD OF TOWN






















arias soar the blurry bed of oil  

for a mouth saying Yes over &

he mimics the spirit-turned-


fluid as in when I am your woken

body I am your woken body wilted.  





















WELDED FROM NARROW HEIGHT








This moving playground of corals
traps heat a hot stare curls.

All silver platter petals
etched on the window you love.

You splash my tea, hello, stillness is
how I still the surface muscles.  

He says the feminine one whose hand
waved a million miles drives far.







MATCHING PILLOW TO THE BACK








Silver shadows under a jacket half-shed as shadows push your chest.
I am born with a superhero cape.
In case of shock, wean it closely like rabbits.
We use old fixtures for noticing an old box that poofs lighter granules of air.
This is enough reason to love whomever unlocks the seat, eyes on the previous air.











THE DULL PERFUME OF NOON








His fire happened two buildings down at three.
Her bone-form amasses new lung pain
underneath bluish halos because
in silver shadows there are breathing mice
to sift the yard for
leaves, browsing.
The way he almost made a mountain a death
one grandmother says: we still breathe
sky material until I live today.

 
 




A SINGLE CRACK ON THE MAP OF SLEEP










accept a crease in sing-songed ear because
these are for desire.  shapeshifters listen in there
afraid when the day is cold it pollinates the shape
of the first horse they wriggled in.
 









SPACE A HARDNESS IN


















We let silence speak into day's foot

to prove heads-tails diffuse her

little death, omni eye & oyster

the desert spiders loom around.



Hence if the breathy ends of her forget

the silk nerve relaxes

I saw it above the rib.