Jennifer VanBuren is the editor of web journal Mannequin Envy, which
recently released it's first print anthology, ‘Trim.’ Raised in
Northeast US, she now lives and loves in Texas with her husband and
two sons.
JENNIFER'S INFLUENCES
ANNA SWIR
For a selection of Swir's poetry on the Jackdaw's Nest website, click image; for a biography of Swire on the E Notes website, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here
JAMES TATE
For a profile of Tate on the Poets website, click image; for a selection of Tate's poetry on the Book Buzz website, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here
DOUGLAS GAMRATH
For a selection of Gamrath's poetry on the Mannequin Envy website, click title.
e.e. cummings
Click image for a selection of Cumming's poetry on the SCF website; for Isabelle Alfandary's article 'Violence and Silence in e.e. cumming's Poetry', click here or for related items on Amazon, click hereKURT VONNEGUT
Click image to visit the Vonnegut Web site; to visit Kurt Vonnegut's official website, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here.
they let us out early
so we could avoid seeing the boys
who got their "talk" in the gym
but they caught us anyway
with our Stayfree sample bags
and cartoon illustrations of
vagina filled with penis
uterus filled with fetus
Greg and Todd and even Jimmy
teased us at our lockers
come on what you got in that goodie bag
training bra? tampons?
locker shut I could barely even
look at my homeroom teacher
who I imagined for the first time
naked,
his erect penis pointing like a road sign saying
"it's too late"
betrayed, bewildered,
I looked to the female teachers
but they were all too busy bleeding
to tell us that there had been a horrible mistake
No, that is not true
I never thought it was you
but maybe an older brother
he had your colours
face freckle tied but a thinner gray crown
I knew it was not you,
but it was a reason for this drama
for the pauses over tea
between family talk,
my son learning to add in negative numbers on
the armadillo placemat
you came with smooth finger trace
his hand pale on cold glass
booth smiling and light eyed familiarity
pretending it was you
so close so secret
did he recognize me too?
pencil in the player of muse
no, I want you
melting in my hand
short sigh oh oh of surprise
as if a new colour of pain were invented
twist sugar jump me over toe
where can I take you next?
you know me
you know me
I lay you down
chair tied
pillow propped these phrases used to mean something
but now they are alive
and their meaning escapes me
I want you
and all I can say is
"I want you"
pine needle kneeling we sway
like a puppy in a pick up
slaves to inertia
find me
hide in me
tell me that the secret is there are no secrets
fence hammered chicken wired all tired and true
truly present
under nails
sleep waits
tonight at Threadgills
I thought I saw you
we were already half way to Rialto bridge
when you found the street signs
hidden in the tile mosaics under our sandals
back pack heavy
we barely make check in
later: lost again
we find a mattress down a staircase
outside glorious San Giovanni in Bragora
someone was sleeping down there
right there beside the cathedral
I can't stop thinking in English
tripping across text book time lines
like the day Vivaldi's mother first felt his kick
under her ribs here on these steps
right here where we stand
later: fourteenth century wireless connection
he gets the latest news
"hey look! our little bean's startin' to grow his kidneys
no espresso for you m'lady"
five minutes after you throw away the map
we find an unmarked museum
Salvador Dali opens my torso
like a four drawer dresser
Don't tell me it's just the season.
Magic men always make time from nothing
find time no matter how deeply hidden.
We count backwards from ten
sidetrack detour bar stop water cooler the new girl the other new girl
stop light phone call cheek kisses
for all the girls and you look so beautiful
so beautiful today
but we never make it back to each other
You dig down through tender shoots
and sleeping bulbs
down through metamorphic layers
of lost lovers
that still cling for nourishment
The pick slams bedrock
sends jolt through muscle
It's around its around
it's around here somewhere
that passion
backtrack follow the trail of
rose petals dropped lightly
you would never do this
put your nose to the ground
follow my scent
I am squirrel buried deep under
where I am supposed to be
buried here with my addiction
to love lost poetry
It is snowing
the ice is due
He called from California Jenny you will love it here
it is so beautiful
so beautiful.
you come back to me on days of transcendence
like those January days we slept away
days I forget to count the hours
days months you have been gone
as we packed up your things
a crow dropped
your daughter's gold necklace and cross
down the chimney
it sounded like something much larger
but we could not make out brick echoed words
were you trying to tell us something
we had forgotten?
2.
your ex-lover captured you
in a montage of voice-over photographs
I could not recognize you without motion
3.
a young boy
climbed on the bench
next to a beautiful woman
kneeling close
he pushed the hair
from her face
and touched her cheek
he moved without ever taking his eyes
from her face
4.
an elderly woman wears breakfast
in stains down the front of her ruffled blouse
she watches the birds scatter for imagined crumbs
the wind blows hair into her eyes
she sees more birds scatter for imaginary crumbs
5.
you come to me
these days where all rises over impossibility
ozone sharpness raises the hairs on my forearms
electrons at my fingertips
wait for release
6.
a boy saw you stream down the storm drain
I know he saw you there
the way he chased the water
and watched it fall
and fall
and then disappear
but still it kept coming
still it kept coming
it must be raining
somewhere in the North
because still you keep running on down
e.e. cummings
KURT VONNEGUT
