what love might look like
there’s a bug crawling over your ear——!
——it’s just your hair slipping down your face.
a birdcall that sounds like two hands kissing
& three small lights bouncing off the trees
the saline misses the eye
but finds its way into your mouth
the washing machine’s pulses sync with the crickets’
and fresh wood is stacked high by the side of the road in the sun.
the bird that hit the window is fine now!
we gave it some water and it rested, then flew away.
no one will ever make any new podcasts,
and all my friends have a place to sleep.
landscapers abandon their tools
so every lawn becomes a forest
the sky stays light-blue without any sun to guide it there
and there are no more police.
partita
plain: in its hang-gliding out of its wilderness, the violin says I will pull the soft life out of you,
you little bitch and, for about fourteen minutes, it does. I’ll tell you the truth: bach wasn’t
hearing god when he wrote the chaconne, all those masses, every concerto, oratorio,
magnificat he wrote for money and for himself, like the rest of us the world
smelled like shit & bach smelled like shit like jobs & like towns, bosses, illness, empire
and shit, pulling the soft life out of us, the little bitches and we are there too, on the hook
for it, the whole of our own ugliness, the little bach bitch life of it all
A Quiet Place (2018)
city / left destroyed / by emptiness: the vision: sweetautum / FallAmerica / stateless / the nation /
wiped clean / “pure” & / silent: except for leaves rustling: to threaten “citizens” / to put “citizens”
near death / according 2 Foucault / & Jim from the Office / means the ultimate “puri / fication:” /
the unknown / a death / a “citizen” / “crisis” / stores are empty / are destroyed / nothing to /
buy: but this family lives / a “pure” life / lives a return to / analog / this mass death as / a clean /
sing / for propaganda puppet John and blonde pregnant wife: here we see: picture it: nostalgic
nuclear family on homestead: patriarch sits on the roof / gazes over land / wages / war on / terror:
well tilled fields / purple twilight / sets in / on wife’s belly / teaches silent Shakespeare / scansion
to son / in / warmth / of homestead / barn / silent / gold home / stead / filled with food / fruit
/ wheat / warmth & / photos / & most important: no language / “pure” / & silent / “pure” / &
bare / foot / gold pregnant / wife tends to / belly / tends to / laundry / blind language- / less /
invaders / blind / loud / uncontrolled / unknown / able / threat / en homestead: the “pure” /
family / not situated / in language / not them / “pure” / in silence / family surveils / loud / blind
/ un / languaged / monsters / threaten / birth / the / “pure” / est / birth / threaten / homestead
/ gold belly family / destined to / repopulate / a languaged / birth / in / tub / showdown /
requires / tech requires / guns / but / requires / the weak / ness / of blind / beautiful / battle /
field / no place / that does not / hear you / language- / less / monsters / the / technique / of
techn / ology / to “repurify” /the “family” / requires / surveil / lance / death / as a kind / of /
birth / the birth / the ultimate threat / to family / birth / inviting death / a kind of “purity” / the
language- / less / invaders: / blood on tub / sign of victory / “to be / threatened / is / to purify /
the race” / to “purify” / the homestead / John says / requires destruction / of / the unlanguaged /
other
Alice Hall
Alice Hall is a poet and teacher currently pursuing a PhD in the Poetics Program at SUNY-Buffalo. Before Buffalo, she taught poetry and writing at Portland State and Portland Community College in Oregon. Her work has been published by Quarterly West, Yalobusha Review, Heavy Feather Review, Dream Pop, and DIAGRAM, among others. Her chapbook Universal Casket is forthcoming from Quarterly West in 2021.