homered armystatesidefeverevents

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 jehanne 
 dubrow
 fuzzy dog
writer, teacher, editor 
IN THE FEVER-WORLD, MY DEAREST

In the fever-world, my dearest, 
our hands aren’t clean
for very long, the brambles
biting in our palms, 
deep thorns across our life lines—
          here, even the shrub
surrendering fruit to the picker
resents the sacrifice and wants 
its juices given back in blood.
       if you are hungry, starve yourself.
Make a desert of your thirst.
Don’t fall asleep
                      Here, my dearest,
there’s only wilderness where fields
should be, only the blackberries
concealing knives,
               cherries pitted with buckshot 
to choke the unsuspecting throat,
and peaches whose centers hold
dark stones of cyanide.


On Fringe
In Blackbird
On Verse Daily
Read my essay,
"Notes Toward a Nonexistent Poet."
Read a "Fragment from a Nonexistent Yiddish Poet."
In Rattle
In Diagram
Read a review of
From the Fever-World.


In Blackbird
 Read a review of
From the Fever-World.
Read an interview about 
From the Fever-World 
and my other projects.
Read a "Fragment from a Nonexistent Yiddish Poet."
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