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Onionskin
we are worn so clear
impossible papers fasting
alone with a match
Poems on the topic: hunger
Poems on the topic “hunger” on Poets.by.
Strigiform
an owl comes
full of night
and light as
all the life
it might
eat
Observer
the state is a great eater
I see more and more
but am wholly unable to look
The Yellow Field
Somewhere in that critical hour before supper
I lost my appetite, all of it,
just as my strict Nanna used to warn against
when she set out the sweets.
My other grandma would light a cigarette
& gently shoo us out of the house
so she & grandpa could enjoy their cocktail hour – ah! – alone.
Peace without children, yellow field
where I dissolve, finally, into a murmur of bees.
Given a field of yellow, the weather doesn’t matter.
Given water from the ground or the sky
& my own, too-corrosive minerals, given
a season of ice, fissures growing
wherever the rhizomes can get their fingers in past the knuckle,
prizing the dead stone open along its seam
of gleaming yellow: a field spreads
Omnivore
with my stomach I have met
mole-like most of the world
and I am full better than full
of meat and visions
but I am not satisfied with
the method used
this again and again being hungry
taking pills
The starving artist casts a wide net
At home looking at an eel
that my wife bought,
I cried for our dinner
that was all I.
The starving artist considers entomophagy
All this day looking at the light
and insects
and other creatures to which
I was not little.
Geophagy
I eat clay again,
satisfied by that nothing
to the full,
that ugly child let in
at a back door.
Off the land
I have no name,
only the troubled dish
we all call home.
Stabat mater
The mother weeping
on her cross,
the mother who is hungry,
not a bit of meat left
in the house, having
signed things to a thief—
the little mother
is not ashamed
to drink alone.
Ursus maritimus
A white bear
catches dinner, very hungry:
snow at sea.
Abstract
An experiment:
hands talking,
we frighten the bear
back into a book.
The bills of mortality
appear to be full
of pure hunger.
Deprivation addict
Look upon
these hips fit
for a board
and eat.
Unwilling flesh,
breast of necessity—
being ill for
want of it
I fear a clear life,
pray it may
not tempt me
to eat not.
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