Karen Douglass, Author

Karen Douglass, Author: Prose & Poetry

Category: Uncategorized

  • THE INFLATED COST OF POETRY

    Prefab, bought on spec, an anthology too heavy, too thick, these words dribble onto the page, small sense in leftover language. And trees died for this paper splattered with ready-made lines languishing like dry toast served on a plastic plate. And I sit on my high bench, gavel in hand, sentencing this thievery to public…

  • A ROOM OF MY OWN

    Carpeted, cushioned, well lit. Clean water flows on demand. Six ceramic mugs stand by to hold my choice of many teas. In the heat and dust of war another woman, in a tent, has no cup, no spoon, no tea. She has a hungry child.

  • Water Speaks

    Clear when I fell from my mother cloud, I flow from PVC pipe amber as sun tea murky with suds honor faucet and drain burble greetings to crews at the city water works pause as a puddle and run to a nameless creek feeding a lake, trickle, cascade, drip from eave or icicle, open my…

  • A Labor Day Poem

    Building a violin begins with a walk in the woods to choose the sacrificial tree. A saw blade bites, the tree falls, forsaking its roots. Sawn boards dry, each one, tapped, has its own voice The violin plates, front and back, marry, gain ribs and neck, pegs and varnish, gleaming, lose all semblance of raw…

  • NEWS LIKE SPLINTERS

    On a divided street each house a tight fit word leads to word witchery curdles milk disease in the body politic A sufficiency of verbs symphony distracts deflects no bullet pronounces no cancer cured or pond cleared of algae water relieved of stink Song draws no blood breaks no bones chants no routine of peace…