#clair dunlap

[bostonpoetryslam]

you absolutely cannot put the poem in a microwave, but you do & the poem is the lightning bolt destroying the microwave. the poem is a terrible experiment you believe in even as it twists out of your hands.

Clair Dunlap, “Ars Poetica after watching hours of Robert Pattinson interviews,” published in DEAR

[lifeinpoetry]

can i undo him from my canon? can i be happy? and

what will the stars call me then?

— Clair Dunlap, from “Aries Descending a Staircase,” published in Occulum

[mortalpractice]

In case you’ve never seen a sand dollar that’s still alive

the bruise of the whole matter less blue now that i've got your attention. my body less a coin than it once was. my story less his to talk over, less yours to gawk at, to touch the purple soft of and drool. the whole matter of me the tide pools turning their bellies up to the sun, jeweled and perfect and vulnerable ​winged by something so much bigger than him.

--- Clair Dunlap, published in Up the Staircase Quarterly

[vagabondcitylit]

Clair Dunlap’s poem, “A Stonefruit” from our 7th Issue, 

Clair Dunlap grew up just outside Seattle, Washington, and started writing at the age of six. Now she is 22 and lives in the Midwest and spends her free time making vegan cheese, doing pilates, and perfecting a vegetarian paella recipe. Her work can be found, or is forthcoming, in Whale Road Review, Up the Staircase Quarterly, The Harpoon Review, Words Dance and others. (sometimes she writes @smallgourd)

[cestpasclair]

the hum of splendid things bees through the lull of my lungs, slips into ten kisses on your cheek. this bite of ripe nectarine runs all over our hands and no one minds.

clair dunlap, three hours doing something soft

[cestpasclair]

how does the light taste at 5am cold blueberries where do watermelons grow full bellies what does the sunset smell like hands caramel-sticky who planted all the lemon trees flowers who were sick of the sweet why is ice cream to sing you lullabies where did the ocean come from raspberry-stained tongues who made words the amazon river’s hips how is ice magic why do moths flock what the moon whispers where was the first hug a school of salmon

clair dunlap, fifth birthday

[whereareyoupress]

i’m gonna grow my babies up bilingual; they will trip over their tongues their eyes sipping in all the alphabets. i’m gonna grow my babies up pine tree. teach them to scrape their knuckles on autumnal bark hold the pacific ocean in their fist their mouths heavy with rain. i’m gonna grow my babies up blown glass hand-drawn map paper crane careful. they’ll have the whole world in their bellies if i get it my way – breakfast in vienna lunch in marrakech dinner in helsinki, they’ll hold their forks in their left hands. i’m gonna grow my babies up banjo string breaking into belly laughs, they will know how to cry. i’m gonna grow my babies up well water and whale talk, they will be cavernous and full of conch-shell secrets, they will floodlight. i’m gonna grow my babies up too fast for a photo, they will always be dancing off somewhere.

For A Future, Clair Dunlap (Where Are You Poet Contest Finalist)