Justin Clemens Poems

I, quiet, reflecting, reversed my inanimate lids,
not knowing then that the high heavy black
spires and closed roofs had often shrunk to snows
in the waters glimpsed in the vision
...

with kinski's yowl i shift straight into dogshit ack
i skid & i & he are on another track
i hear louise stand by the stove the day
through face black with smoke and soot
...

Eric, tit–keening dank sty; lusty Rosa
knew hey–days; yah, Sue sigh, in gun–stained balloon.
Then all faces hissed: sigh Hermes, tar more foes, err
in demand! Damn weir–soul, Lenin's nicked moon,
...