terrarium test poem

new project

Good news

My pamphlet "How Hate Got Hand" is now available from eohippus labs.

Eohippus labs is the project of Amanda Ackerman and Harold Abramowitz, two of the coolest people ever.

Harold has a new e-book out from Little Red Leaves, and Hex Press will be publishing Amanda's chapbook this summer.

Also, the new issue of Little Red Leave is gorgeous and full of really awesome poetry.

I had a dream last night that had many of the features of a classic anxiety dream. I was due to get on a plane to London in a few days time, and in order to enter the plane I needed a confirmation number. I was confident that the confirmation number was in an envelope which was in a box, but everything was a mess and I kept putting off the moment when I would actually open the letter to try and find out if the confirmation number was there. Also, the person with whom I had planned to travel had (seemingly abruptly) decided that she wished to stay home among her new friends. I could see that these friends were much more exciting than I was. They danced and partied and seemed willing to consume substances I refused. I thought to share my hurt and disappointment with my mother, but I then decided it was unfair to worry her. Outside there was a party, and my attention was divided. I had conflicting impulses: to join in, to sulk, to ask my friend for an explanation.

I intended to go to a wedding in a elaborate castle that was, oddly, in the middle of a large cemetery. At least the cemetery was the type without headstones, but it seemed rather a bad omen to get married amidst the dead, yet I also realized that perhaps that feature made the location more desirable to some. I thought briefly of poltergeist and the muddy caskets that bobbed up like buoys in the huge mud hole intended for a suburban, backyard pool. It occurred to me that it would be best to ride my bike, which was a little like a wooden motorcycle. I was to go downtown after the ceremony, and my bike was swift and light, but I also worried that it could blow up like a bundle of sticks.

When I woke up, I missed my friend terribly.

and would not scare

it wasn't a skunk, but a raccoon posse. "a pack of bandits" is what my mother would call them. soft and fat, the fur up close, the ringed tails, the clasping paw-hands, half-cat, half-bear. I left a shiny black bag full of trash outside our door; I planned to take it out, but I forgot.

White Bird

I have not been writing because inside my brain the words are all written on top of each other, like the letters overlap and to write requires untangling, unlayering. But I wanted to tell you about the white bird I saw after dark on the sidewalk, by itself, lingering as people rushed by with plastic bags and boots.

There was a tern at the bird center. And J got a new dog; her name is Daisy. Also, after work one day, there was a beautiful, colorful sunset.

advent poems

It's advent over at Delirious Hem. Click on the boxes to get a new poem each day.

Laura Goldstein

Don't forget to check out the awesome new chapbook from HEX PRESSE!

Ice in Intervals by Laura Goldstein




You can also see Laura reading her poetry at the new Rabbit Light Movies.