Category Archives: My Poetry

228

228 A homeless woman with her legs spread on a park bench looks ready to shit. Good God she is pulling her pants down with paper towels about to do it. Vacationing anarchists are camped out by the water fountain. … Continue reading →

92

19 Jul ’23

92… To be understood words are objective yet we understand them subjectively. When Willa Cather writes, “The long main street began at the church, the town seemed to flow from it like a stream from a spring,” the prose forms … Continue reading →

Five Sonnets in the Dark and in the Light

19 Feb ’23

The poet and professor, Jamey Jones, asked me last summer if I would submit some poetry for publication in the magazine, Hurricane Review. It is always a task to decide on something, but finally I did, and Jamey kindly … Continue reading →

Milkweed Sonnets

4 Jan ’23

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 … Continue reading →

Don Yorty reads from Fucking at KGB

22 Jul ’22

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, … Continue reading →

At the Duchamp Exhibit

29 Jul ’21

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 … Continue reading →

The Prologue

24 Apr ’21

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 … Continue reading →

Twelve Postcards

27 Oct ’20

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 … Continue reading →

Sonnet 233: Mother and the Black Snake

10 May ’20

… 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 … Continue reading →

The Prologue

23 Mar ’20

… 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. … https://vimeo.com/393482209 … … I write the word: I am … Continue reading →

Sonnet 226

14 Mar ’20

… 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 … Continue reading →

Poet Laundromat

19 Apr ’19

… 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 … Continue reading →