#freesia mckee

[rustbeltjessie]

I am chalk, a winter splotch on this Midwestern beach. Days swing by. We fly into the open lake. She is my unblurry memory, unintended, heaped on a plate. She smashes the head of a song against a lowered door. The brunt of its force, stone like a monument in my stomach. We print our mistakes defiant. Every movement we make stains on the page.

Freesia McKee, “Poem for Dorothy Allison” (as appears in How Distant the City)

[tlhopkinson]

Poetry, Social Media, and Activism - guest blog post by Freesia McKee

Poetry, Social Media, and Activism – guest blog post by Freesia McKee

Poets are sensitive people. Our work is devoted to cataloging observation and experience. We specialize in deliberating about what matters and promoting these findings. I believe that poets are also experts in the study of time. We know how to make time for an art that the world, as it is, largely ignores. We experience creative urgency.

Poets must engage with the world. We need to spend time…

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[blastedsheath]

the big prints of your thumbs would fade and the work of your life would blow. she would be as close as the trauma of witness. we would walk through each poem. we would walk till we swam, thumbs brushing the swift sand. i might jump on her spine till she cracked.

- Freesia Mckee

Milwaukee-based poet who writes for the PDXX Collective.