Stacy Black


If you ever happen 
to stumble across
some loose void
or spill a little bit
in the kitchen, say
don't peer into it
clean it up quick
or just get the hell out of there
it's full of nothing
but a little starlight
shining like an x-ray 
upon every stupid 
thing you've said 
since 1991

There are No Corners in a Sphere

It's impossible to know 
what's up with the weather,
even seasons, these days. 
A foot of ice arrives at your door.
You can freeze a human being for 100 years 

and when you thaw him out 
he's full of the same
old bullshit swirling like aurora borealis 
above the research station.
Above the graveyard

like reheated coffee
hangs the specter of love.
Then the rains come then years of drought
and much fucking about
and through it all my cat remains

unperturbed. She just wants to jump on the counters
and drink from the faucet and is that
too much to ask? It is not. 
The chambers of my heart
fill with blood and empty,

a miniature flood neatly routed
on average 72 times a minute
maybe more when smoke
appears on the horizon
or the chainsaws really get going.

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