Catherine Blauvelt

Still Be I Can’t Wait White Flowers Backwards

Big drums. The air’s not singing. Even me
Coming out of aught. I won’t invite. Red flower
goop left her right cabbage green. From where
I am My attentions Straight with you. Have you
me? I thought whole taken for parts. Head home.
Right about now curtains. Down on you. Wade
In and kept hip if seen. You stand up On low
when you can. Of me Who isn’t curled. Always
the look And then, Look, up Lasts for no more
a buzz. Will I leave With you. Over my shoulder
She heard &&&&&&&& Cabbage leaves for me

fowl
like myself
& saw
Aught
Above.
Over us
in some
falling I
was small
& called down
to Aught.
She had a er all
& the call,
she was not then yet.

I sit in front of the strum.
I mostly occupy.

Still be I can’t wait to be
sung back to possible.
Her with my mind looks into big drums.

---

Singly Watch The Smoke Bloat The Pear In Graying Phases.

            Pull off
          our feet. The ground
              like taste. Little jugs. She touches with me.
We eat
together to gather Yellow Candles.
                                      I blow.
                                             She sifts
                               away from rock.
                              Ick. A girl is filling.
            Call it to hip. Position. Moon,
             I may go in the size of your
              eye socket.

---

Magenta In Bits, A Flower From The Ceiling Set

My eyes broad day light to fountain geese,
   making me this place. From the ceiling,
   my eyes                  are not up there.
   Broad day             light is covered with us
   to fountain. Geese form into what else Exhausted,
   Wanting to walk its surface,
      glimmer
        its common Outward.
                        Said beneath
each beam,
   Two Dales cuss flower markets: swerves out of blue thighs.
                           Their scene came here

without rest, geese tails in the ground
   flower. There, shape has a group
      soft and heavy. Pull.
                       She wraps
                       her arm around the plant

                       to complement her mouth.




--
Catherine Blauvelt is a 2012 graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. In 2013 she won the “Discovery”/ Boston Review Poetry Contest. Her poems have previously appeared in or are forthcoming in Fifth Wednesday Journal, Boston Review and The Iowa Review, among others. She currently works for the Iowa Youth Writing Project and teaches at the University of Iowa.