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Harryette Mullen Poems
All She Wrote
Forgive me, I’m no good at this. I can’t write back. I never read your letter. I can’t say I got your note. I haven’t had the strength to open the envelope. The mail stacks up by the door. Your hand’s illegible. Your postcards were defaced. Wash your wet hair? Any document you meant to send has yet to
Pulling out of the old scarred skin (old rough thing I don't need now I strip off slip out of
Page 35 / the essence lady
the essence lady wears her irregular uniform a pinstripe kente syncopation suit
Page 34 / if your complexion is a mess
if your complexion is a mess our elixir spells skin success you'll have appeal bewitch be adored hechizando con crema dermoblanqueadora
Page 1 / Sapphire's lyre styles
Sapphire's lyre styles plucked eyebrows bow lips and legs whose lives are lonely too
Page 39 / arrives early for the date
arrives early for the date to tell him she's late he watches her bio clock balk on seepy time petals out of rhythm docked for trick crimes
Page 5 / sun goes on shining
sun goes on shining while the debbil beats his wife blues played lefthanded topsy-turvy inside out
Page 72 / mister arty martyr
mister arty martyr a jackass to water changing partners in the middle of a scream
Tanka Diary [Awakened too early on Satur...
Awakened too early on Saturday morning by the song of a mockingbird imitating my clock radio alarm.
Muse & Drudge [just as I am I come]
just as I am I come knee bent and body bowed this here's sorrow's home my body's southern song
Comments about Harryette Mullen
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
All She Wrote
Forgive me, I’m no good at this. I can’t write back. I never read your letter.
I can’t say I got your note. I haven’t had the strength to open the envelope.
The mail stacks up by the door. Your hand’s illegible. Your postcards were
defaced. Wash your wet hair? Any document you meant to send has yet to
reach me. The untied parcel service never delivered. I regret to say I’m
unable to reply to your unexpressed desires. I didn’t get the book you sent.
By the way, my computer was stolen. Now I’m unable to process words. I
suffer from aphasia. I’ve just returned from ...