Author Archives: Krysia Jopek

.ii. | .persian duet. [2 dancers] .tell the blue jays and catbird that food assistance won’t compensate a new apple tree.. .(it wasn’t your fault).. .the white and pink butterfly bushes and heliotrope— for the swallowtails and monarchs.. .maybe: leave … Continue reading →

[13 dancers: antigone, dora, elizabeth, hafiz, henry, jackson, lily, pluto, question, sam, thom, wind, zebra] prolegomenon * .no more a tradesman of suitcases, you’re tracking pages with bone chips in velvet emerald satchels over your shoulder (dislocated by moonlight). * … Continue reading →

no more a tradesman of suitcases, you’re tracking pages with bone powder in velvet emerald satchels over your shoulder (dislocated by moonlight). august found you trading your tickets to a broken opera for a stamp of disproportionate magic. (as if.) … Continue reading →

The garden, a micro-wasteland: cracked ceramic and glass; peat moss gone amok with ice, tangle, and quandary. Mourning doves thread dirges into blackbird noise; the blue jay cry, a semicolon. Let’s pretend to be yellow, he said—the yellow of daffodils; … Continue reading →

It’s true. I’m a con-Artist. I can’t pinpoint on the calendar the day–or on the wind-up clock, the hour this new identity coalesced, grew into its genetic paws. Strangely, I’m not one iota ashamed. I daresay I might be off-the-chart … Continue reading →

Unhinged from the ceiling, the gray moth was wind-scatter by Tuesday—then nothing left. Not even a frame for a sentence-shed. Last winter’s bicycle spokes catch a hand. Everyone in a hurry to take the remote—until then. Orphic chords scrambled us … Continue reading →

sinuous, serpentine, spongy, soggy, drowning under water, not serendipitous, not a sinecure with a quick fix, not erect at my unstrung cello, not perpendicular at the untuned piano’s yellowing keys the cat walks across at night emboldened with the power … Continue reading →

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/ymy82mrkkt0trf7u0g0vx/Dirge-part-1-take-1-40min.wav?dl=0&oref=e&r=ABwp5uSLt1Has0XZaPqF_S3qXJRmHZsz4wsYo63m0rDHTYRKrsx1L-LhxJK8p3amUwvLPLuVROZJs7_nXM9n64H4F-Y_byUjmzXv0CCL6cfgxd7M0QDovhZVugveSMgxZn0TfUnMlH85C06zEXwm7pLYAhXjeBwKoGN6uJfqjXKNG-5WRV5qSsgTvCvVeonnbVI&sm=1

Everyone slows down and locks the rearview mirror when the ambulance arrives. Demise crosshatches the body’s sleeves. How funny I look without skin. Lacking the memory of other cells, the cell is lonely. Inconsolable, the violas slip the page. A … Continue reading →

The planes flew through your chest at high speed because someone called you sky, and you wanted to believe. Ghost planes with no one onboard except robots counting dollhouse packages—or elegant military birds. No one had the heart to tell … Continue reading →