Thrush Poetry Journal
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Erin Radcliffe

Name-Word

The irregardless ocean
was hardly something captivating

instead like

reduct
reddy bird
great immense

The mushmelon
of childhood

not of musk
or of mush

but parasitic sound




Fog Grass

Body naked and my own
here are water−millions
for this mending hand

the musicianer and old speaker
are ear−string, sound as mushrats

Feed them mutton corn
and high tones

bait them with angleworms
and always ago

for there is the spare road
upon which

they are nail−sick and plow boned




Barefoot Bread

Our superstition of unwashing
sheds mortar

beneath the line of visible birds
that is both mattock and mass dark

we are on hands
pime−blank

this bedplace thin as bavins
when the phoby−cat whines:

breaking our better would
if only to beat the stir




Originally from Indiana, Erin Radcliffe now lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Her poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Smartish Pace, Nashville Review, Third Wednesday, and The Los Angeles Review. A collection of her poems, Station of Rain, is forthcoming as a chapbook from dancing girl press.




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