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  • Two Poems
  • Douglas Kearney (bio)

Everyday (I Gets)

I play the stonewhile old River tonguing mecould fret me to grit—        naw, not fret:but loves me up what they dowhat they do on the regular.        I'm a loverwhen I'm fighting. Peaceful,here-lately. When I cry, say:he's having River's babies,        and so.

On the regular, I tend them,I tend to look mad as I find memore sand, but naw.        I'm fitfulwhen I'm sleeping. Wakeful,a minute. My ears wetwhen I get up. Like drowning,        though I've never.All my dreams Chevrolet heavy.This land would swallow me        for one damn pearl.

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Black Flight

Came I was way out as it fliesbut an easy green and skiesisn't it? My cul-de-end is a nice, thoughit's like the knot I keep my knickers into hey there stay here. Damn rightI'd rather not not squat some pissy asphaltplot not. Rather put-em-up where I gotto picket in self-defense? Not no but if sothen where'd I roost my hoodieamong cooing polyphony? A no-go a no-no unlessI'm turned me round. Awful's everywhere I was—I couldn't see me there—only pinions.I've eyefuls of my absence everywhereI'm here I go. Hey there I caw hereand mow and mow and mow.

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Douglas Kearney

Foundation for Contemporary Arts Cy Twombly awardee Douglas Kearney writes interdisciplinarily and has published six books. He teaches at the University of Minnesota Twin Cities.



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