The Jivin' Ladybug

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Jessica Grim




Let me explain some

geography           to you


in the

farmlands’ front yard

recasting of



attempts to vocalize signs for

“friend”    in

which the usual fusion



them trying
out toughness


instinct on the

         stint increasingly



        all      sightline—


tolerated well



isolated this

      leaving it the




wanting but not

     wanting to know where


a person in the void below

placing a sound inside another sound


as the

degenerative written




in the main


ritual stigma


as if an island in the midst

these days clouded or

are they        clotted


just another day on the prairie,

beginners are told to concentrate on their

breathing only why is a visit so



their conquering stare

threshold of words words w/out

entry     at all

coinciding w/

             this day’s close blue—


only slenderest branches move

the most dependable of silences


chronology and other factual data.  an emotional history.  as it lived there.


sum up how you move

vocabulary was

       greener a way of having

acclimatized   basement   someone

wonders – though

not now not

over all

this summer sky


microscopic lines connecting you w/

    they in their cubist


pluralized, seriously


    flip-top, open frame to

the present   

moving into thinking about

      trumpet vine’s revival—

      Pleistocene cartilage     cod glue



no re-up

oriented a

solitude which is

properly made much of produces—

         a book explaining wind


serviceable taxonomy  oven-

proof hysteria

    the heat & humidity

suffocate we are living lives still the way we



impediment performs again but w/ less

silhouette          sad silvery

        cicada hums “blossom end rot”  


garden in mid-cry

a graceful thing     an

         open and



         a practical entropy


distinctive   span   our


icthiary contusion

    green wall awash in adversarial

tongue hold         demand elations

         home sweet       attitudinal home

reshift  shorefront tedium     salutary dawn to welcome   

spin  momentum


creasing and folding up on itself along

longitudinal      go

      on and pack up your stuff your

bifurcations, peach stones, soft shoulder


drear tones of



was it birds or rats or

some other




            more like an interruption in the calamity


at the hinge more oil is applied

quiet paragons

    platelets exacting

the same as ever


you shape up that grammar

        ray of warmth upon

     the fetid swamp


late summer night  carrying     on

our having wakened


          I can freely believe this

    a kind of charred

dilapidation dawns purple deepened


the curiously planed mechanism of

      those mishandled starts—

  crushed hemisphere

              populous, knickered

      truly original cleft

nuance w/out peer

a singularly           black morning

     hand held out      just so


a thousand provocations this

rain falling


content sputters sidewalk

flops up to meet your

foot the aquatic “blip” of

 sound reduction


relationship to memory


a wing and a leaf  how



quill over endive


in its fixity its

       diptherial trot  our

 legs running ran there    against

         the nocturnal meanings “of our time”



is       forgetting

wailing or some other constant




follicle a

seizure of desert lands



nerve ending (in)


particular shades of blue gray and peach

          what mercy must we  show it

mea culpa


genuine fleece personhood details

across the spectrum


“I’ll just put this away“

boundary trauma


visual cue brings you closer to

the window

    -- page ices like the

window ices

in feathers  


the single most edible


within the bush’s bare branches the

chickadees sit puffed against the cold


low zone

addled         an

epidemic of dementia

our past as lived in dreams and

so quietly

the verbs fall


as in tilled,

the federation



their spurious flare in the dull nights’


marking it


as rooms occasionally

alighting there



many (many) days later

I saw a lantern


aerodynamic lilt of that voice

it’s all recall  

in which one version varied so slightly

from the next

and their most excellent excess




Natural History of the Book


So where on the spectrum did

we think

we sat


notwithstanding the severity

of the symbol


the sewn binding

of the bibliographer


a kind of induction

ordered by history


purposeful blur—

        there upon the

satellite of our desires to

cast ourselves         out

        under the shaking of our

voices our projected

            futures keeping the word



clearing history of not

being able to see


     script     anymore looking down

listening or


              looking down—


the saturation point already

up from where we gaze (upwards)      a

      kind of cloaking          of

which future do we then speak in

which middle distance do we see it


a position bound w/in

the book


our staggering recalcitrance

the page it’s on or the page it was on


that’s “concordance”, to you

The Jivin' Ladybug- A Skewered Journal of the Arts
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