« Brian Clifton | Contents | Alexis Almeida »

Caroline Rayner

little lies about your cool life

  *Listen to Caroline read this poem.

 

all night long i play the sims

like a devil

or a princess

or a cat.

i mean,

the future backflips

all over the sky

so i dream

of transforming

& i become

littler,

a narrative device

like a drone,

only peach soft

& powered by a river.

half machine,

half witch.

all my insecurity

collapses into my third eye,

bodiless.

no one dives into the pool,

perhaps too depressed

or too haunted.

this is proof––

negative thought

inside a black hole

escapes & blooms &

clouds up

every pixel

of every mirror selfie.

which is more dangerous––

knowledge or possession?

my macbook

screeches at me

so i practice night vision.

when a girl

puts on ambient music

& bakes a birthday cake,

i get real

& we burn

the house down.

 

*

 

silhouette

  *Listen to Caroline read this poem.

 

as autumn ages

in dog years

& curls up

 

in the living room

like champagne,

i collect

 

what burns––

a sweater floating

around my hips,

 

not because i deny it.

i like to think

purely fox,

 

a single jade

teacup hidden in lace

to make an uneven number,

 

a quilt, or apology

when lavender & original,

now a figment. sexless hills.

 

i break the pomegranate

open

& the marriage

 

of snap & lunar interior

excites me.

remember how i used to love

 

a saint? remember how i wanted

to become a hummingbird?

i hear it while drunk

 

& trying to be sweet.

rarely do i dream

so softly

 

but i can’t help it.

i licked everything

clean.

 

 

 

Want more? Read our WHAT WHAT HOW interview with Caroline!

« Brian Clifton | Contents | Alexis Almeida »