Category Archives: My Poetry

Milkweed Sonnets

Among my sonnets are eight that are about milkweed; I include them below for you to read whenever you have the time. Hope you enjoy.   86 As I put my nose in milkweed blossoms their resemblance to lilacs remindingme now of the cold early […]

Don Yorty reads from Fucking at KGB

On May 23, 2022, I read at KGB for the Monday Poetry Series curated by John Deming, Jada Gordon and Jason Schneiderman. I was reading with Kate Gale and went on first. When reading a poem or singing a song, once I start, I don’t […]

At the Duchamp Exhibit

  What I’m usually doing is deciding what to do now and what to do next. I have a list of tasks. This week, among a lot of stuff, I’ve been working on old poems and it’s boiled down to words, to what sounds best. […]

The Prologue

    a mouthsewnshut can stillmakeasound   before you love anotherlook in a mirror until you don’t existthen smash the mirrordrink from your bleeding fist     In the circleI’ve pressed my lips.     If you press yours there toowe will have kissed.   […]

Twelve Postcards

  I like making things, and since my husband Akram’s drawings often fit my poems perfectly, I’ve made postcards out of them. In the time of an inundating Internet and a pandemic, postcards are something physical that a friend has taken the time to write, […]

Sonnet 233: Mother and the Black Snake

… My mother pulled the black snake from the bush. Long snake gone from fleeing to being held twined around her arm and opened its mouth but mother only laughed and let it twist. Her friends who had come to party at her barbecue wanted […]

The Prologue

… These three poems are from the Prologue which is from of a longer work called The Final Postures of a Dying Whore. This is where it all begins. Enjoy. … … … I write the word: I am behind it You read the word: […]

Sonnet 226

… On a sad day of losses big and small someone left a flowerpot in the hall that wasn’t money or plenty of time but if I wanted it the thing was mine alive for sure because hint of a leaf sharply and green was […]

Poet Laundromat

… Poet Laundromat was filmed and directed by Tom Miller who saw me do a performance of my poem Fucking at Inroads, a venue for performance art in Soho in the early 80s. He’d just bought some video equipment and wanted to film me doing […]

the prologue

… … … … … … … … wind touches skin wind isn’t skin wind … words are birds … eye is sky … Dear Words Reverberating on my eardrum’s skin you come in like a finger on a guitar string. Sound sends me quivering. […]

Don Yorty reads from Fucking (Poet Laundromat)

… On Sunday, April 29, I was featured at the Zinc Bar with two other poets, Ed Friedman and Elinor Nauen. I woke too early and was tired and talked too much between poems a little incoherently. But the crowd seemed to like Fucking, the […]

Dear Words

… Reverberating on my eardrum’s skin you come in like a finger on a guitar string. Sound sends me quivering. Some places hands can’t go. You touch the soul. But I’m not saying hands can’t talk or what is meant can’t be felt. Once I […]