Kelli Russell Agodon
Kelli Russell Agodon Poems
Sometimes I stroll through forests
just sprayed for the gypsy moths. I throw a rock
into the bushes to distract the hunters. Deer
...
Sometimes, I forget the sun
sinking into ocean.
Desert is only a handful of sand
...
Neruda's Hat
On a day when weather stole every breeze,
Pablo told her he kept bits of his poems
tucked behind the band in his hat.
...
I imagine Nice and topless beaches,
women smoking and reading novels in the sun.
I pretend I am comfortable undressing
in front of men who go home to their wives,
...
As a girl, she hated the grain of anything
on her fins. Now she is part fire ant, part centipede.
Where dunes stretch into pathways, arteries appear.
Her blood pressure is temperature plus wind speed.
...
I.
I wanted the macabre plant holder
hanging in Janet and Chrissy's apartment.
My friend said her cousin tried to kill himself
...
Kelli Russell Agodon Biography
Kelli Russell Agodon (born 1969 in Seattle) is an award-winning American poet, writer, and editor. She was raised in Seattle, and graduated from the University of Washington, and Pacific Lutheran University Rainier Writing Workshop with an MFA in creative writing. She lives in Washington State. Her work has appeared in the Atlantic Monthly, Prairie Schooner, North American Review, Image, 5 a.m, Meridian, Calyx. She is married and lives in the Northwest. She was the co-editor of the Crab Creek Review from 2009 until 2014. She is the co-founder of Two Sylvias Press.)
The Best Poem Of Kelli Russell Agodon
Love Song to My Neighborhoods
Sometimes I stroll through forests
just sprayed for the gypsy moths. I throw a rock
into the bushes to distract the hunters. Deer
me. I am writing to my hazards.
Open gutter to the lake, green oil, paint dumped-
I swam there, cut my foot on a beer bottle
and kept paddling
to years by the power plant, my bed
placed so I could see the voltage through my window,
an evening sparked from metal towers. I was pulsing
beneath an uncharged moon. Still am.
Let me introduce you to the nuclear
sub base, the girl next door. At night, missiles leave
their home on trains, protesters appear on tracks
a day too late. Afternoons, I buzz to the hum
of the generator. I know your lecture in my radioactive
heart:
sing organic, vegetarian bliss. But I can afford
to live here. I am a poor it.
Open my wallet and find. . . Moths?
Coins radiating? A small hazmat team? Let's dream
big together. Turn off the lights. Watch my lungs glow.
I know you'd pay to see them.
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