we ring and run.
we ring and run plastic bags sagging on the steps a dung heap of lost sleep a ditched pile of not regret we fold fire and wedge it in...
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jenparkhill
- Jun 6, 2019
Curar.
thirsty. girl. drink drink from the well I’m keeping stocked be the pan that holds the egg plop and sizzle in my grip grief is the clean...
jenparkhill
- Jun 6, 2019
Tip.
tip the glass and watch it spill fill the cracks with wet put pen to where the paper is grateful for a hand to hold you pen you’ve never...
jenparkhill
- Mar 9, 2019
Wiggle.
inky eye in that expanse of sky i saw you looking as we danced I liked it blue blue dream in the hem of my coat grateful for a friend a...
jenparkhill
- Mar 9, 2019
Teeth.
Somehow Somehow I take in air unseeable something filling insides breath. why do we need you. what do the plants need? Something i forgot...
jenparkhill
- Feb 10, 2019
Little Fears.
i touched moon a dense room on the inside of sky white light an afterlife ribs shook with all it took to say words so soft in my cheek...
jenparkhill
- Jan 23, 2019
Cordadito.
she’s looking at me and I’m looking at a wormhole my eyes in her head flap-jawed a mouth a mind a runaway train i am the blood that made...
jenparkhill
- Jan 23, 2019
Cowboy.
find me in the high Sierra way up in the icy air i’ll be the cowboy dirt in my scalp this dogged ride saddle thumping between my thighs...
jenparkhill
- Jan 23, 2019
Birth. Day.
tedious and brief says the sundial and i find myself watching shadows differently these days the way they slip tech tonic plates shifting...
jenparkhill
- Jan 23, 2019
Dev.
her beard is greying this dog one day she will no longer kick me in my sleep. so I take her out tinsel in the bushes mirrors winking in...
jenparkhill
- Sep 24, 2018
We Ring and Run
we ring and run plastic bags sagging on the steps a dung heap of lost sleep a ditched pile of not regret we fold fire and wedge it in...
jenparkhill
- Sep 24, 2018
Bus 7.27.18
My father’s father - my grandfather - “Dandad”- my grandmother’s husband, my great grandfather’s son - “Bus”. He stands in the kitchen of...
jenparkhill
- Sep 24, 2018
For the Lonely
FOR THE LONELY (Double Bass, Mid 18th century, Anonymous-Academia Museum, Musical Instrument Museum) she has outlived her maker. more...
jenparkhill
- Sep 24, 2018
David
never has a man with ribs of stone inhaled the world as David must. I would live inside one lung, a chamber dark and damp as a womb. I...
jenparkhill
- Sep 24, 2018
In Transit 5.27.15
It will be 9 hours before I touch down in London. From there I will carry on to Frankfurt, and finally Florence, where I will be...
jenparkhill
- Sep 24, 2018
Repairer
By Jennifer Parkhill Edited by Jenni Quilter Repairer On a single bed, seven bodies are arranged in a tangle. The scene looks more like a...
jenparkhill
- Sep 24, 2018
Leaving Monterosso 6.16.14
The first car smells of feet and the air doesn’t move. The next has air conditioning and smells like a hospital. I go in search of a...
jenparkhill
- Sep 24, 2018
Vernazza 6.15.14
The morning is misty and calm and we are the only people on the trail. Omri and I idle a while taking pictures. We listen to music and...
jenparkhill
- Sep 24, 2018
Corniglia 6.14.14
We wake in Manarola around 9am. We shower and pack our things and head downstairs to check out of the hostel. We are reluctant to leave...
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