carrie hunter

plaintive plaintiff


nascent and unused
i am scarred and forever
withered in her hands

something about time and sound


the soundings        of the bell
the soundings             the peal
the bell        the ring
sounding out             like hell
something about memory
    the memory
a bell                (a mother is searching)
inside, surging up
from inside of not-sound

happiness obscures
a view     this view  
  the sound

elegant and disappeared.


we are the sheen
of then & now & ours
& her & we are not within
the time of narcissism

A beautiful image
floating in the water
(between) I forget to look
(((((airedales & poodles))))

and sorrowed by the secretion of eternity

    and the unstill secrets
that come in waves

cellophane of the unchanged
I am here and

hello hello I am speechless
I cannot speak I am lost
in clouds in waves in things
that move but do not soothe.
in echoes unannunciated, this dry baptism,
these tearless cries. Muscles
unravel.  In the canyon,
slowly sloping a textual echoing hello hello…

what sort of canon exists in such a canyon

what would we do without the elephants
and the ferns              accordions in vapors seen
and unseen


Chandeliers seeking
trying to find light
    despairing in failure
crashing crashing

“There was nothing much here
and now everything is here”

counterpoint staring

desolate and aware
of the darkness and that one point of light
counterpoint meets one of its own

I am vacant and snared
carnal, cranial and bared, the needle cloth tears

and in the darkness there is a light
in the darkness there is not a light
vacant and spared
exiles return home
exiles are lost, wandering around
exiles soft, and savoring the time
all of us are vacant and scared

what survives, by some miracle


yet really confused about the process
of destination, limitation, wandering around
in circles, or sitting still tree-stump staring
while the rest of the tribe is leaving sunrise

what wanders around in circles trying
what stays still, stays put

cellophane cinders

desolate and quiet and nothing much here
but soon everything will be
and sunrise is coming, and hurry and hurry
and tree stump is staring, tarrying, tarrying


Accomplished with what we lack

sounding out like hell
something about memory
    the memory
something about a bell
inside, surging up
from inside of not-sound
“never be faithful to me”
    I said       happiness obscures
a view     this view     the sound
of the not sound within
all sound     how can I find
it with you here     without you here
    I can hear

Portia peals the bells of void, of lack, of you
and you, yes even you     do not recognize me here
in this space with me, with the lack of me,
myself so elegant with disappearance


I am just a plaintive plaintiff, hear me,
make me real, make me feel
shrieks of skin butterflies drown
in the shower of sun I am ever
and steel and reel me in

Fishes of satin and sea quakes forgotten
I had to steal it I will have to steal it        steal

what I have been denied
what I have denied myself

carrying carrying skyscrapers steel
I am forever in the distance
with the finches with the seals
never forgotten what will end here
            we will all end here

under the ocean                    it is
fine here, everything finally OK here
in the ocean,
here with you death and sex
and forgetting and drowning, we will
lose everything here

In the here where here is forgotten

finally but shadows
want to be more than they are

in between         (you are)
the seashell, the sisters       hidden under ladybug ferns
it is OK here
really except for these cistern encasements
mausoleum floor-songs

elephants implode
and seas are driven senseless
and salads and cucumbers are living
in cages, and casements of seashore
are sleeping in stages, numbered and lotted

we are all living shadows

elephants haunt us
and seas live in basements
shoresongs enraptured and
plaintive prescience, such preciousness
I know I hear I know gladiolas
are screaming on rooftops
I know I see I know sundials
are in between us and                   you know
what the shadows between us                       want

«±  ±»

carrie hunter has been published online in the Muse Apprentice Guild, Moria Poetry, Eratio Postmodern Poetry, Voices in the Roses, and in print in SCORE magazine. Work
is forthcoming in Aught, and as part of Furniture Press's PO25¢EM zine series.




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