Whitney Jones Olson Poems

i am taken aback;
i question your strength,
your revelations;
your integrity.
...

Maple Marble your fine overtones,
like Marshall Fields in Chicago
where you wrote an essay of political analogy,
and became The Pro,
...

She hears the Carmina Burana behind her eyes,
the oratorio asks to be pulled from her / into text /
She breaks the law two hours after waking,
sits in linen through the afternoon / pontificates /
...

The final lecture, it has concluded, with a
scathing evaluation of its fearful leader,
and I have glided easily to the fountain of Venus
who has drawn herself on all my time here,
...

Saw you on a Sunday -
reading your Bible,
bought you some candy -
got cuffed to your chair.
...

'Tis my spleen 't makes me write,
A mummified epileptic screaming
somewhere in Mexico
Licking eyeballs and 700 piercings
...

Standing on the ink ribbon of a lunar eclipse - light dribbling under with the steady stream of carbon sap - waiting to be a darkling singularity, gently thrashing for extinguished guidance - politely disintegrating - clothing my melting youth in black, to disguise for al sun-set company the disapparition of their light - this girl, a shadow gypsy
again
between nothing blood infinite choices
...

If it is, then, true
that we have only a number
of heartbeats,
then i lose a few
...

walking, along
and wondering, who
that young man is, there
in the shadows, and
...

Words - are a
tumbledown romance
a fantastic interlocking, and
an aesthetic.
...