Kate Bremer

Kate Bremer What year is it? Sunday?What’s the donkey’s name;Why is she wearing orange slippers?Draw a Kit Kat Klock–her Krazy eyesAnd rigid plastic tail are mine. Drinking water, Meals on Wheels;I won’t write about killing children(or adults) in GazaUkraine, Salvador. FirstThey took the Venezuelans.Can you pass a Medicare testIf you are steeped in conspiracy–A member Continue reading

Kate Bremer Luminous darkness between rooster callsLooking into pupil-less goateyes, connecting with her nose, the quiver,the crevice, the device, crevasse, the divine,Divide. Birdsong. The pottery next door–Cracked and kilned and built. StopAnd hear the aftermath of death–Crater of belonging–clotheslines full,Toys hidden, casinos buzzing. Far awayDonkey speaks, not one of ours.Forest Service mules have been fired;Some Continue reading