Bridget Boylan

untitled

i can dissect your drawings into smaller parts
i can define your statements to objective leanings
i can trace your face in observation
i can respond without thinking
i can not listen to you

here is where a poem turns
here is where i become conscious

i am feeble in my turnings transgressions and transits

i can hear a baby crying through the walls
i can have 9 abortions a year if i want

//

you can not listen to me
you can roll a smoke
you can turn on a different album
when i start talking you can turn towards a friend and incite conversation
a different conversation

it’s hard to keep that balance
the tuning is the same but way lower
normal chords still it’s so deep
i love it man

anyone’s nothing

in a dream the margins bleed a dog eared page a rose petal turned up hue unclear
a piece of ice frozen rain flies through the rear window hits me straight in the eye
————
————
————I am unsure of origin I am distrusting
what used to be instinct———i never knew instinct
————
————
but now I know home———————now I “have” “space”
in which I feel real————————in which my dreams are not entirely illegitimate
————
————
—————————————————vision can be sparse pleasure and pain
—————————————————spending time bothering to define them
—————————————————in the way I have grown accustom to
————
————
——————————————-fifty lashes hit me harder make me really bleed
——————————————-this all shuts me the fuck up I want to know love
——————————————-I think I really can
————
————

Bridget Boylan is a writer and musician living in Philadelphia. Her work can be found on wordpress and soundcloud. She is currently working on a chapbook, applying to MFA programs, and mastering an EP set to release in April.

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