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Daisy Fried
Helicopters sang out in the South Philly sky
And morning wind blew branches against our windows.

It was the hour my dream swarm
Twisted me pale on my pillow;
When like a bloodshot eye darting and twitching,
The last lamp stained the day incarnadine;
Where, trapped in my surly body
I recast the battle between lamp and day
As my struggle between intention and accident,
And like a face wiped dry by breezes,
The air was full of thrilling, fleeing things—
Anger, Change—
I was tired of writing, or you were,
You were tired of fucking, or I was.

This and that torched boutique sent up smoke.
Somebody heaved a planter into another store window.
The shopkeeper put the safety back on his sidearm,
With stinging eyes dialed his insurance adjuster.
Someone danced on a police car.
Someone blew up an ATM and his hand off with it.
Women who forgot to stop bearing children
Mopped their brows and chewed on ice,
It was the hour when, sweating and starving,
They gave birth to their latest moaning and cursing;
Like a sob cut short by foaming blood,
A siren, another, tore through the fabric of morning;
Buildings snuffled like marine mammals
Bedded down in smog sea.
Old ones in nursing homes, their minds gone,
Hawked up last juddering breaths.
They'd been abandoned
As I sometimes wish to abandon you.
Someone crept home, broken by stupidity.

Shivery Dawn in her green-pink shift
Crawls up the Schuylkill, into the parklands.
Angry Philly, rubbing her eyes,
Grabs up her tools again, that old worker.
from the book THE YEAR THE CITY EMPTIED / Flood Editions
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"Daybreak" is from my book of Baudelaire adaptations. During 2020, my husband was dying of a cruel disease that attacked his body and mind; Baudelaire seemed to have a lot to say about illness, and about losing one's beloved, in a violent, economically spiraling country led by an incompetent malignant narcissist, its institutions racist and classist, its people in crisis. "Daybreak," which I wrote while COVID-quarantining during #BLM demonstrations in Philly, is based on Baudelaire's "Le Crépuscule du matin."

Daisy Fried on "Daybreak"
"Ada Limón and the Poetry of Rebellion"

"The Hurting Kind exhibits all of the lyrical and thematic hallmarks of Limón's poetry: deft narrative, elegant poetic structure, and attunement with and appreciation for the natural world. The book is separated into four sections, each named after one of the seasons of the year, and showcases its author's deep understanding and questioning both of the nature of human interconnectedness, and of loss. Still, the book represents, in some sense, a break from Limón's prior work—or at least the narrative around it."

via PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
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What Sparks Poetry:
Moheb Soliman (Great Lakes, MN) on Ecopoetry Now


"This brings you to 'On the water;' this is where the poem dwells. Trying to dream about water, or the opposite—sleep on water. A poem as oblivious as you could get to the complaints above. There are other poems in the book that are more critically, consciously, 'ecopoetic.' When you were asked months ago to choose one and discuss your earth-centered poetics through it, a dozen others came to mind—writing that hit the nail on the head of the horse and beat it dead."
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