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BETWEEN BODY AND KNOWING poetry by erin bosenberg

CONTENTS On Story And Its Falling contemplation of the anonymous turned into tattered history kisses are better than blood a protest I went to A as in A nationhood part II words to be framed smoke remnants of a day passed a word to this encounter and the story it has held On Love And Its Weight transference night spills to taste dust I will try when language broke up God On Being A Lady boxes for tearing nameless in death through bent sound, through whispered word for a lady and her practical things

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On Story And Its Falling

a protest I went to from the comfort of my own home I watch as tear gas streams through colonial streets concrete and polished stone meet cloud angels emerge, running from billowing beauty and a sting in throat, eyes and on tongue they know in their bodies a continent far removed from their own does not emerge unscathed from philanthropic missions they know as youth they want to hold an entire planet through embrace and carry through embrace but often they want too much but often they cannot conceive of that body with toe hooked and fingers clenched that body as a link to ideology pulling on a planet and tightening its belt that was their protest song and it continues on‌today with bodies that scream through streets behind bedroom doors and in front of stage doors with muscles that tense up into concrete ready for their fight their line of defense

these arms want to carry so much even while muscles grow weary and visual delusions appear through lack of sleep, food or comfort wherever one is wherever one is wherever one is we don’t know what to do except to scream until they throw us into their mad house with the beauty of flower bombs, gaseous flowers coloured and willing to twist open one bodily function or another this is to the protest song in all its grace in all its beauty because that is what can lift us up to calm that is what can arrest the soul with the ache it makes at the back of throat my hips sit and stand and they can move in line with others my arms lift bent at elbow with flattened hands that stretch this could be a new physical metaphor towards the right thing to stand for I hope it’s the right thing I hope this body knows what to do through crumpled chants and bent gesture

for a lady and her practical things I have left love in men’s hands I could not but be fooled by their poetry they could never love me in truth… their impracticality was too great as it pushed love out of its edges and I was left to draw practical things over and over our lives and I can’t hold all practicality up high to make love and so I dropped love into men’s hands to watch it melt and walked away in kindness and for my own sake love is left wafting love is left wafting but it should always have truth and never impracticality else empty hands are left open and acheing my mind is made up love is waiting

Between Body and Knowing  

Sample of poetry book produced by Erin Bosenberg. Postcard size. PAGES: 51 SALE PRICE: R45 CONTACT:

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