Carrie George

Selected Poems

Photojournalism 

It’s moot to opt out. 

Our ruin is natal, 

is a lit prism. 

Photo is hunt, 

trojan trout in our moat. 

O phosphorous hour, 

appoint harm. 

Appoint our torn mural.

Anoint our toil. 

Our juror is a troop  

of pouts.

is a torn jar. 

Pour a ton out, 

pour out a rot to join 

its animal. 

Photo its mouth 

torn up. Photo its harm.

Its mouth in photo 

is a lit root 

that soars.

Anatomy of Light 

Light which is drawn 

which scrapes to slide

light which is the fall of light

and shade beneath a hot white 

silver salts to fix 

to wound 

white scar lash 

an eyelid   a feather 

salmon swimming upstream 

vein which is a grid 

which pins platelets to the third 

bisect light leaves the eye 

in half               split 

washed in the jaw river 

which empties at the antler 

its own angled memory 

discarded city 

the trouble of light 

reverbs original god

which is an egg in the moon 

the ocean shadow 

at which ancient caves 

shutter their ribs 

closed