Saturday, April 19, 2014


by Christine Fojas

sometimes I mourn the skies
above the city
sparse of birdsong
and canopies
of trees free
to grow their full handspans,
above and below

time turns grass over
land parceled out
now put to use
as if the rural air
was becoming obsolete--
my neighbors used to keep
pigs and doves, squeals and coos
were my lullabies. now,
there is only one last kind
of bird, landing on thin
and narrow trees by my barred
window, singing lonely songs.

the city is city through
and through, hard at the core
posts at every corner
carrying wire that bisects
my skies
and tangles tree branches.

the trees are clipped
and boxed. the birds die out.

and we--who are clipped
and boxed ourselves--we
have already scorned the world
outside our barred windows
for the worlds we have made

a world of restarts,
and without entropy, a virtual
canopy that shields us
from the sun's piercing truths.

even grief fades away
like another dream
in the chain-of-dreams
that screens my waking day.

I have been writing poems about this for a long time. Inspired by napowrimo prompt of sea shell names called "sparse dove."

Friday, April 18, 2014

Deep Blue

arranged by Christine Fojas, source texts Acquainted with the Night by Christopher Dewdney and poems from The Iowa Anthology of New American Poetries, edited by Reginald Shepherd.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Black Black

Christine Fojas

on the meter
the line dips down
the bed inviting
you deeper

bones that run on heat
now cold and colder
the earth calling

black holes
in a black sky

pupils to pinpricks
flesh to soup

what if my soul
is just a stone


Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Tuesday, April 15, 2014


by Christine Fojas

Catalogue of global circles:
a series of shoes
as icons, a lifestyle
evoking mobility.

Museum of change:
the peripatetic
seeks to press
found freedom from
beauty, precise
and permanent.

Post-nothing manifesto:
paintings of secret
culture, east
and west. Grounds
to recapture,
old symbols warped.

Fine minds and regulations:
state attention
on illustrated
notes, myths.
Art exhibited
at political order
featured effort
and compulsory
Dreams by permission.

Then paintings denounced.
Art crimes
earned him time.

Found poem from a random page on Wikipedia. Source material is here

Monday, April 14, 2014

I Thought I'd Ask

by Christine Fojas

Can you open up
without spilling?
What's at the core?

What's under each mask?
The secrets you are keeping,
are they worth killing for?

I just thought I'd ask.

prompt: poem of questions

Sunday, April 13, 2014


strive for mist-mastery
linger in the labyrinth

turn around three times
until you catch your tail

do not speak carelessly
feel your fingertips then

touch every thing. sail
to a dot on the globe

and send mail. rhyme
sometimes but always sing.

unlearn your past,
go slow then go fast.