Hazel Avery
“bringing heads of daffodillies”
weep people we people weep
when we weep people weep
she says people she says
weep woman when she weeps
the wind weeps woman when
shes wind the wind brings
weeping people the wind brings
us people windswept people
windswept weeping people
look how the daffodils
fuck themselves in the
wind look how the bees
fuck them too in the wind
in the daffodil chasm look
at them go all sorts of windy
yellow fucking impossible
to imagine sorrow without
flowers there in the sorrow club
mosses where i sleep outside
were once treetall horsetails
are made of glass i get
the feeling i understand
the cautious season throws
caution to the weeping wind
the fucking wind i fuck myself
in the wind or in the snow
im not picky lately but i am
all “take that” about it as if
anyone but me takes it mullein
is invasive and it needs to be
taught a thing or two teach me
a thing or two too mullein is
for lungs comfrey is for wounds (but
not too much) calendula is for
immune health hypericum is
for being sad but i wouldnt know
about that im not so picky
anymore i will weep beside
forsythia dogwood or magnolia
just as long as the color is right
throw me to that weeping wind
when the wind is weeping
right i cut some flowers because
im in a bad mood i dont mean
that it cheers me up i mean i do
it out of spite i can eat wild
chives but i dont i can lay
in the sun but i wont i can
rest my sore feet but i dont i wont
i cant not today
lyric for the little body
prest thru & into u
body as a sieve
of what
into
debt or
weight or
crush or
empty or
open or
who is on her knees before the image
who is on her back in the street
who is coming with much softness to the open hand from which to eat
who is opening her body to those omens
who is receiving the light or the lashing
who is putting her violence into a window stone
who is crushing and is crushed
who is crying out at movement
who is dying or does not die
who is killing or does not kill
who inward her
who like a space to hide closes
who bodied
who her on top of her is like a singing thing
who sings out who cries out who she
hazel avery is a poet and writer. her work is available online. give money directly to homeless people.