Mud Season, Graceless & Violet Abandon – Poetry by Nina Denison – July 14, 2018 – Mud Season, Graceless Difficult to explain How April makes us queasy How the air reeks Blowing out of winter It quickens our breath to smell the last wreck Whatever it was Tease what this year’s will be Air turns thick for us Like open… Read More »Mud Season, Graceless & Violet Abandon
After seven years of your screams | streaming past cracked mirrors, your flushed | face drowning in its own imagination | flooded yellow rooms reflected…
I struggled to unzip the the bottom layer of my wet-look, sunshine yellow, vinyl, fully lined raincoat to transform it from maxi-length into midi.
Writing about painful experiences helps me to work through the complex emotions, lay the anger to rest, and move on.
During the commotion, a nurse slipped over, and sprinkled in that half-teaspoon of shit. This time I pretended not to see her so I could have a minute to think.
Helen of Troy stares in the mirror | and wants to destroy what stares back. | She’s fifteen. She doesn’t know yet…
I remembered, as I always do at such moments, the remarkable series of epiphanies I experienced on a Monday evening twenty-five years ago.
In these poems I take a critical view of myself, more specifically my own perception of my body: the amount of physical space I take up…
I fold into a weary pigeon and dream about what it would feel like to perfectly execute a bear, a spoon, a spider, to live inside a healthy body that is not chronically ill…