FOREST SMOTRICH-BARR

when we map thresholds

yours involves a vision                 with a hammer,
mine to gingerly              draw from wood    that curved
and polished     feeling                

we tell ourselves:
there are various kinds  
of smallnesses,         dispersion     
is ultimately  for the better 

we walk around      bright chalk circle    
swinging hips side to side,    
exorcising adolescent sexiness

rivers dammed      we get in a tiff      
over how to crack hard-boiled eggs,        
then time for lesbian processing
on the porch  

caught in our own traps         all summer, like hens
making comfort          we thought that we had already
been inside         the sound-proof place     

lying ear to ground, leaving one wall open   
                         breathless under pines
       we assemble our tents      early-dusted,    

forgetting mothers in haphazard re-generation         
november unloves itself            we lean in
                                  towards the fire       

under each ground          is another monster       
              all desire for digging  

cento with texts from friends

Like the way you’d speak it       Is very fast
i want to dance dance dance
i’m so nervous

i’m so so so stoned rn
i feel very at peace lol 
Still feel a little weird but a lot better
but i’m literally just looking for sex so it does not matter

what game        oh like sports
i did tell my friends i thought u n i were gay in different ways
Except for jennifer garner julia roberts audrey hepburn anne hathaway

Like @everyone can whoever is free come chat tmrw at x time
combo meal !                     back to callen-lorde !!!!!
whenever I imagine my funeral, I realize it’s not because I want to die
but because I’m feeling needy

Not laziness dude       self care xo
but that doesn’t distort the facts
of the situation

it’s more strange to just
be able to feel something that i’ve never
physically seen, ache

particulate

 symphonic exegesis                   misses outermost plane              
harmonic operation       cannot reach        
 dictation machine is broken          working just as designed             
                                   nerves peel off          
                                           join angry dance       not all the shame            
            can hold the river     as it passes             through us    
or the reverse?       like how I'm younger
  and older than you   back in the dollhouse   
       where I fold papers
                into a noise machine

Forest Smotrich-Barr is a poet, visual artist, educator and Scorpio living on Lenape land/Brooklyn. His chapbook, Spells for the Portals, is forthcoming from Madhouse Press, and his work can be found in smoke and mold, Foglifter, Dialogist, and elsewhere.