Poetry:
Ally Harris
Ayreamd
Color, orb ring—fur, lie, rise serious, heavy
head I shoulder mind on. Pleasure
this conversion as the ram ray sparkest thus
a cranial lace over the gun-lined crag. I taught myself
this many other things shod form
among the famine-sad window of the shear
welcomed the final element douched from rafter tatters, gaped
half peripheral in sleep’s hood foddered film-like
in a snake of teeth, shoddy, drawn, anemic
all that scares us scares us has been told to scare us
in that labor-special kind of build, a revelation
based on stirring while boring morrow
stung along the engine wobbles like a lamb
My Stinking Iris
If I am to suffer myth, the cumene
vertebrae of my pyrotechnics
September you’re out. Mysterious
heart-curl lazuli-
soft jellyfish of the mantle.
I am a frog in the dull, flush
in lily-green paunch
and beer. I in you am a lens
over that vision, the white symbology
of a snow-alone steeple.
I devised it
I think it’s good, maybe
I think the world is good
or that it is without
reason for
complexity’s sake
Ally Harris is the author of two chapbooks of poetry, Her Twin Was After Me (Slim Princess Holdings) and floor baby (dancing girl press), and has poems in The Volta, Sink Review, Denver Quarterly, BOAAT Press, Entropy Magazine, and Bennington Review. She is a graduate of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop, hosts submission reading series and Drunk Church for Women in Portland, Oregon, and edits poetry for Heavy Feather.
Image: clarita, morguefile.com
Check out HFR’s book catalog, publicity list, submission manager, and buy merch from our Spring store. Follow us on Instagram, Twitter, and YouTube.
Heavy Feather Review 