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Jamie O’Connell

By September 26th, 2020No Comments

Space junk


canopies glisten—wasp nests—maintain catastrophes—your

fingertips—dawn  dwindle—didactic whimper—whistle to

my drumbeats—echo from atmosphere—telescope star

scape—fire flew—over the field—




soon we will be tidal waves—trees pulled out of ground—

whipped with branches—I churn moon clouds into beaded

bracelets—to be sold on sidewalks—you wait on the top of a

cliff for birds to balloon you—a deep lake simmered by blue

silt—my silky breath milks honey—against currents of hollow

ghosts—we live on the bottom of an ocean—amongst trash




coal dipping into stardust—sedimentary iron cells—

carbonating tongues—drilling into sand—mess upon mess—

water upon water—trees above trees—canopies reach the

ozone—disintegrating with raindrops—infusing oxygen—

break the panting sky—pulled by earthquakes—how

shattered rocks form salt inside fire—singing trees sleep—a

line of fishing rods across the equator—collide with our

sighs—dew drop salt hills—my private cemetery—what do

you hold on to—my dear—if the earth turns black



rescue reality // beyond veil of analogy

(with fragments from “Ascendant Sign” by Andre Breton)


a cloud dropped from the sky / motor

universe beyond / substance transgresses

sense / vibrations pull lightning / cows

lay down and dream / still water wing /

I listen as blood saved / an accurate well-

spring of insanity / horses circle around /

hold on to trees / a cloud spills ants / spills

rain / spills milk / once a creamy sky of

vanilla / of orchid weaving into orchid /




cirrus smears / sleeping insect / dream

thunder residue / slow motion shattered

head / smoke-spilled eyes / clairvoyant

mirror / bullet storms / bloated boulder

whales stampede blue / freeze my silent

balloons / blue haze paint drops / gravity

horses run shadows / radiate my nomad

glow worm / my wrinkled quilt / empty

electric blue ocean / I smoke your fog

from a mountain dune /




snow milk / dream of bigger fishes / of a

sky drawn into little birds / we always wait

for rain / now the house is flooding / pull

plastic out of the mud / apprehend supreme

destiny of the mind / gathering of spirits /

disappearance of apologue / to belong to

pine trees / to udders / to the only manifest

truth / in this world /





Jamie O’Connell lives in the Bay Area, where she received her MFA in Writing from California College of the Arts. Recent poems have appeared or will soon appear in FIVE:2:ONEEunoia Review, CalifragileOCCULUMbad ponyCacti Fur, and elsewhere. She spends most of her time with her majestic zebra-striped dog/direwolf, Daisy. Visit her site here: