for sparrow, i guess
the amoebas of hope rounding the door, mermaids of sorrow sprinkle slam/dunk the ocean floor, pinocchios of hopscotch pole-vaulting/ red (neon) light when i was young i used to wear a red dress no no garters no snake/no problem
tues., 12.15.20: 8:07 pm
they say a new even more virulent strain
of corona
rampaging britain, and now in colorado,
so
for how long
can we hide just when at summer’s end. thru fall,
we see some dangling party favors
hurtling thru the masked mist,
here comes a torpedo
ripping thru the PPE
of a happy healthy new year
tues, 12.29.20: 7:42 pm
We used to toggle
from larry jones’ loft
above the pyramid club, to
st marks, later from nuyorican
to st marks, last year, from
the church on christopher,
while the rest of the city
was in recovery we were doing
our slam-dunk punch drunk poetry crush—
i’ve never been a fan
of new year’s eve, this year
the sky a lead zeppelin over
manhattan, i got to swim
thats a plus, i miss the bagels
and lox, i miss human spit & touch—
i miss you all so much
thurs., 12/31/20: 4:21 pm
Bronx-born poet and actor Eve Packer has three books of poetry out from Fly by Night Press. Her latest book, no mask, no talk, is forthcoming from Autonomedia (2021). She won two Downtown Poet of the Year Awards, and a Time to Consider: the Arts Respond to 9/11 Award, among others. Packer holds degrees from the University of Michigan, the London School of Economics, and N.Y.U., and currently teaches English at Westchester Community College. She coordinates What Happens Next, a loose collective of poets and artists, and she swims daily.