From now on, this journal will also contain notes and drafts about particularly special prose projects pertaining to the general mood of this book of poems. Your patience is appreciated as we work out tags and titles and other systems so that you always know what you are reading.

epigraph
i am pregnant with a metaphor
waiting to be born inside.
the water is breaking, with great pain
words are quickening in my womb--
oh, child-thought, be born!
i have struggled with you these long
weary months, come forth and let me
show the universe the fruits of my love.

featured for my school literary magazine: An image of the page I am on.

In 2008, I wrote approximately 208 poems on my own, and collaborated on 33 others.

In 2007, I wrote approximately 13 poems, and collaborated on 9 others. I think the number is a bit higher and that some of those have paper copies floating around that never got transcribed. Maybe. The number is certainly less than 20 total.

You may ask, if you wrote 208 poems, where are they all?

Most of them aren't fit to be read.

delicate, your inquiry hangs
unspoken in the air between
our mouths, a curiosity i can
taste, uncertainty with a smell.
you want to know who i am,
but you know not to ask that.
the seconds, like thunder, dance
in circles, never ending, and still
you cannot speak.

bloodwork
silver flashing, warm with blood
a pinprick of deception
rain like diamonds dripping
dark like dusk at high noon
this day is so familiar to me
i feel you must be very near
evil is so omnipresent in December
and everywhere i go i see reminders
flickering like the black of paralysis
my laughter chokes me in my throat
as i remember how close it is
to that dreaded Anniversary.

he comes in the night
like bad breath, bedhair, and furballs
a monster from the closet
grendel in heorot
or the dragon on his horde...
fiercesome to behold he has
last year's gift socks
and they shall perish utterly.

This journal of poems by Kari Locksley (and her pseudonyms) is friends only. If you would like to read the poetry within, please comment to be added.

what it is: a collection of unpublished poem drafts behind a lock, and previously published poems left unlocked, to share with my friends and to keep.

in other words: Emilie Autumn meets e. e. cummings at C. S. Lewis' dinner table to discuss Anna Akhmatova. A lively discussion of spirituality, ghosts, medieval literature, love, tragedy, hope, and human rights follows.

see more: anachronisma, balancingbooks karigans_fic, clapham_circle