Sunday, October 4, 2009

Two poems by Andrea DeAngelis

Two poems
Andrea DeAngelis

again again

the unknown world turned up and out
over again in her mouth

she could taste it –
what she was missing
what was his
better not to linger there
sugar in that meatpie of hair

she might go, and then again
she might not

again again
is a strange unfeeling
dissolving any meaning

when she should just listen to the raw rattle
of her own breathing

let in
let in
the sin.


Cyclone Cellar

I need a cyclone cellar to protect me
the sirens are coming after me, you see

The satyrs may have wanted me
but I am sexually immature
although my looks deceive

I did not steal anyone who mattered
I will live long past
you and your expectations
I am not who you think I was

I may be indeed
much too far from the sea
to heed their wailing

But they are calling me
I read too much to learn enough
I am always curious about devastation
and how I can survive it
those that eat their own exoskeleton will live

Those that don’t
shall vault
over the unoccupied
and unobserved guard rails

I only believe I can live a year
without talking to anyone

These silverfish have infected me
damaging my skin’s memory.

Author bio:

Andrea DeAngelis is a writer and musician living in New York City. Her work has been previously published in Art Times, Hit and Run Magazine and Gloom Cupboard and on various spoken word podcasts. She is working on her first novel and her band’s, MAKAR, second album entitled Funeral Genius. Visit for more details.

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