Hello darlings—
I am honored that two of my poems, “The Enemies’ Disease” and “everything i do is beautiful”, have been published in Hunter’s Affects no. 1: Winter Tour 2024. (be sure to check out the soundtrack, too!) Thank you to Editor-in-Chief/One-Woman Band Alannah Guevara for everything. It’s a delight to be included, I hope you all enjoy reading.
love is real
Love,
Kate
I. Myth
Astride ice mountains, a mood
daguerrotype of the demoted
planet. Out in the cold swarmed by the wounded
healer, the hateful river and the river’s cousin
the serpentine of dreadful resilience.
Shunted outside the galaxy.
Still, we do not escape metamorphoses.
II. Home sphere
It’s the neighbors again.
Their drip annoys,
their curb appeal draws
your stomping boot. In This market?
Pluto’s loyal diamonds advise "Buy!-Buy!-Buy!
“It’ll never be so good again.”
Interest pays some and cuts both ways.
Class wars was a cute joke
but here are the keys—
It ain’t no fucking game.
Ain’t no fucking way.
You will see. You will covet
your lost privacy.
Your only solace the delirium
that you did not pay
to give it away.
Déjà vu: closing the blinds.
III. Sisters, brothers
When the real weight on you
is the knock that you are not at home
in your own body.
When the real work is to take
space. Terrifying, no? Say, No.
On your own behalf. That’s Enough.
When you act like it
will kill you to tell her
how you feel. That wall lies, BTW. No matter
if you built it.
When it’s not peace. It’s liberation.
Justification will only leave you
colder. Desecrated cemeteries envy you.
Now give over the keys
everybody go home.
IV. Sonnez les matines
When Elvis haunts me, his plaints his sad
When I make my baby a peanut butter and banana
milkshake to soothe those cutting teeth
and I finally feel the love for The King.
Power melted him. I hope he was earnest as I believe
he was. I pray—whether he is
an alien or dead—he is free.
V. Leave
This is what power makes of me:
a reach to god.
What offerings shall there be to Lord Death?
Hmm… Did I mention I’m not into wine?
Not this pale suburbia mama, no Sirree, sorry not sorry.
I beg your pardon, but haven’t You had enough?
Haven’t you been on the dole too long?
VI. The Secret Kick
Her hiss is a kiss
I'll eat it all up, please.
I may be a Sag
but I love me Thee Stallion.
This winter is unearthly beautiful
despite the plagues,
despite the genocide.
Must be some of that Snow, Tina.
Must be some of that pinkwash
heart glow that the shareholders could never
kill nor take. After all,
This Is Regeneration Season
for the next 20 years.
[archival] for the curious, these diary entries (and jukebox time capsules) from the same time period in past years:
jukebox:
When it’s Christmas
at Graceland and his sweat
—Elvis’, that is—
bygone king
pours but the keys pour more
rain down on me since Rapid City ‘77
nothing those spent red soda cups could hold
busy holding him together with suit sequins and leather
Just like the melody, thank God
It’s unchained. May we all be.
rivers get lonely, too. How could that be?
swim, stay next to me. Resembling eternity.
The devil takes the water,
The devil makes it mine,
The devil tells me, Quiet now,
All will be fine...
Just give me all your power.
But when it’s six years a wife
and nearly two a mother, thank God
The waves make clear—
The fight is surrender,
The devil makes you choose
—dignity or else—
tortion is just another dance
Spell with your hips,
tongue and lips—
I am in love with you.
[archival] for the curious, these diary entries (and jukebox time capsules) from the same time period in past years:
jukebox:
When I almost got away with it.
When it beat me up, down the barrel
for weeks. Roughed me.
When i’m coming out of the woods.
When i’m in the clear.
But. You showed me indeed
the tough going sent who going.
1. When… . . … I don’t think you like me very much at all.
2. When you used to be funny. Now your air’s grievance.
3. When you forgot the sugar for the pie.
(The risk you run,
baking without tasting.)
When I found friendly eyes
Surprise, between the boulders and the skulls.
I would have passed by, despite the roses
I so prize. Though your portrait hangs
in my house. For years I passed, loving the color.
Not recognizing you.
But you recognized me. Love is real.
The thing i’m here
to learn—my body—is
enough is enough. I am
riches aplenty before the burning obscene.
When you thought you were the terror.
When I laugh,
because you have. Never. Seen. Me.
When it’s enough of you;
your time is lean.
jukebox:
[archival] for the curious, these diary entries (and jukebox time capsules) from the same time period in past years:
Hi folks! With gratitude, I’m happy to report that my poem “remember how you had me” found a home in manywor(l)d‘s Issue 2. It was an honor and a delight working with the editors, I thank them from the bottom of my heart for this opportunity; I hope you all enjoy reading this issue (and Issue 1), it’s chock full of wow and wonders.
When the air is the high water. Your throat, your spine. Your nails a-clack and coffin-cut like the chasing paper’s tines. When heaven’s middle stills its clouds full pockets of currents; The riverbed we can’t escape. Only anchor’s my horns, my horns our roots now. Horns, promise me, for my parade. No grave, just currents; no spot —a Waldo in the bardo— An orchard, perhaps. The rain calling for bed. That way I will travel with you. That way I drowned will sing for you, my call ends At home with the world.
[archival] for the curious, these diary entries (and jukebox time capsules) from the same time period in past years:
Hi folks! I am thrilled to report that I have a new poem out, published in Reverie Magazine‘s inaugural issue! Thank you to Reverie for this opportunity; I hope you all enjoy reading.
You’re weird where I wasn’t.
Bold of you
to let it spill because I did
not unless it was tears.
When it’s been five years.
When you petrify
Them and I love that
for you. Keep going.
True blue you, how you bore
through me, darling. Saw;
you could not help but to.
I scared easily. I saw, too.
Your mistake was perfection,
an -ism I’m proud you cashed.
—You gave me such cushion
taught me the riversleep, recounted how
a lion played in the snow—
Your strength is you’re willing
to err often, and in the open. And to laugh.
How it spills, the land will decide.
—O! How you listened to me.
—O! You heard me like no other.
No matter the when, we will always
have the porch and our letters.
Rings of fire and cut glass passed
between us, a cackling
in the clair moonlight.
Our visions a shared music
over and over again.
Sakes, your name is mine
and hers, too. My pride.
I thank you
for carrying me along
for the ride.
Go forth, my love! Mistakes’ embrace.
You are never alone
when there are so many cycles.
You are just brave, which can feel
that way. The only way
to stay is weird.
Now, turn it all the way up.
[archival] for the curious, these diary entries (and jukebox time capsules) from the same time period in past years:
messy messy mess-mess mess messy mess mess and listen run aground messy kiss and lies messy messy mess-mess; A pocketful of rye messy messy mess-mess; And us an angel tie. Four-and-twenty blackbirds, fenceposts of the day messy messy mess-mess; I keep what you say. messy messy mess-mess; baked it in a pie. oh-so-hot your steel-beamed truth to be your reject is to be my butterfly it's time to take to the bath. Timing just for redress. When it’s time for the answers to all keys And the fresh sack of flour is spoilt. When I am the fire in the belly, serving the witch that you need. when baby needs a new pair of shoes so we went to bed with six.
Monthly jukebox1:
[archival] for the curious, these diary entries (and jukebox time capsules) from the same time period in past years:
* ’22 B Sounds
* ’21 Even my silence is powerful
* ’20 Bagheera Chamomile
* ’19 The Jasper Vessel
When the siding’s in cinders
and now I lounge on
warm rock warmed
too by my bones
my purring bones
Asleep in the day
in the open—a torch
of rest daring you to
wake me. Inviting you to
sneak past.
Or not.
Whatever.
I’m good either
way.
WHEN THE RENAISSANCE WORLD TOUR IS AT MY DOOR
!!! !!! !!! IloveyouBeyoncé
humbledinthepresenceofyourprowessyourvisiontheinspirationyouare
When the world is my kind of pink
IloveyouBarbie-O,therichgiving
yougavemeyougavemeplaysandimaginingsOandIbrokefree !!! !!! !!!
Fellowhearts choose the dark
paths, cross purposes
known as Unnecessary and Obligation.
known to be rough.
known to take you from yourself.
There are too many nightmares roamin' around.
Meanwhile, my quiet
observation is a trance. Takes note. Bears witness.
The white bear and the black jaguar
chose me.
When a second Renaissance
surprises; her sandcastles are built
together, and the joust was good and sun.
shadow dancing dapple
When the letter arrives right
before the double moonwalk.
Signed forevermore,
Stay wavy, peaches. Stay wavy.
A journeycake. A blown still.
The burning house. A mercy kill.
kate carsella 