from ‘Poppycock & Assphodel’

Cody-Rose Clevidence

I demean the parade
of stars ] I supine
the cedar
& firs
I masochist
the “dawn” &
the “dew” I callous
the ordinary
in daylight I show
my face 2 the face
of the sun, (in more
ways than one)
I break as the
“crest” of a “wave”
in eyelet or silence
or come, “crest
fallen” in cocks-comb
or plume, I make
a pasture climb
2 th sky
w my eye,
stroke “thigh”
or rhyme “I”
with “my”
I hereby condemn
any solemn


its pollen
or spume


I harvest a meadow
of larks, laugh
w th laughter
of doves
wring drip
after drip
“just th’
tip” of a star,
ther, ask
a question
in th’ form
of an answer
form of a gather
or an after
-thought, thought-
less, caught
a ruby-throated hum
from th’ sword-fights
of noon, the lazy
sword-fights of summer
of haze or lovers
dazed, or odor
of vowels, sprung
forth & faster,
faster & O
timid is the
flatulence of stars.


o dude of all o daffodil
o dude of a daffodil of sprung
a bolt of reason might
hold-up (unlikely) against a trumpet, not
poised, unpoised, be milked thy milky
way of trumpets, thy milky
way of aster, thy milky eye
w it’s ooze on its sleaze on
it’s griefs of, & pollen,
get down on yr knees of,
shock of grass in th fist of
(if only) a thought could rise
like th sun, forgetting
its early plum—


th’ early urge 2
rage, th’ plundered
urge 2 plumb.


Dude, the terror there
is lit w laugher—dude the arching
& th’ archer 2


Dude the creek is rushing,
rushing | “give me but one
firm place 2 stand”


<<thought tho tender
thought tho sprung>>




I resent th’ lily its bloom, I regret th’ dawn of its loom
I descend th’ posture of stairs, put on airs, fight “fire”
w th calm gaze of noon—huzzah— my eyes r “ashine”
in th’ “gloom” I limp w a glimpse of “astride” b outside
in th’ “open” too soon, sing thus: thee thine or cuss
my hand at my back, th wind howls its vowels at dusk it
calls something up, it “aflutter” or “startle” or “cup”


I beacon th excess of stars
w a stare w a glare of th grace
of a face, am forlorn in th dusk, dip my tusk
in a mare, (j/k we’re all
geldings here) pair
pears w th’ grins
of th flesh,
press leaf upon
leaf, under-leaf, leaf-thrust,
trust no utterance, cant carry
a tune.


save but for {regale me} save {face} 2 face
driven {2 what} {what have} have I {eye}
save but for {this} what. a thicket {grows}
around. {self-conscious in the wilderness
of my consciousness} 2 day: spare yellow leaves bracket
light : bright lichen on wet bark : fog low
in the holler descending : some internet
on th’ internet : low drone of a small plane
{everyonceandawhile}overhead: {someoneelses
motion elliptical arnd me}: haze of all
& I {I} {1} a cusp in me {2} a bearing down
{3} soft th’ tether, harness tho {4} save {but for}
a certain {glow}—


        claim only the ape in apex, the prayer
in predator, lewd form in the quintet of stars. go forth my dogs,
slouch & play my dogs, hunting things in th dappld grass—
th blackberries of my eyes, my visions chosen pitch. I the lips
my fingers touch, go forth untriumphant & yet get thou,
get you, git I gallant, get thrashed, grasp’d & “had th’ scent on”— this
& thus, & thistle lead {me} willingly, go. it gapes me. fuck w,
lathe me, as when it, bramble it nerve up, as when wood-
roses do shed their small petals {w just a touch} it shake them
down as when it galavant th’ light down & parse &
leave it, there, laying there, hybrid in th’ meadow
is the self I’d lay {willingly, or} claim,
laid, down u {thicket} a tangle in yr eyes—
& th’ petals, well, let them {go}


Cody-Rose Clevidence’s 1st book, BEAST FEAST, was released by Ahsahta Press in 2014. They live in the Arkansas Ozarks with their dog, Pearl.