Elizabeth Gross


the more unfortunate Feminism in my own
from scraps of those I can be

the more unfortunate Feminism in the mona lisa
if I can charter a particular aircraft at her fall

the more unfortunate Feminism in the escaped 5th chicken’s chances
if you feel like your age is going up for an ethos

the more unfortunate Feminism in the bar with the wait and see
the more unfortunate Feminism in the heart of computer death
the more unfortunate Feminism in being Degas

is this beauty to sound like an authority?
the more unfortunate Feminism in the roommate who showed me body, soul, all forms of emotion, love, etc…
the more unfortunate Feminism in the tuckedaway hidden installation rooms

the more unfortunate Feminism in round one:
the reintegration of the guys—
have a blast and misanthropic tendencies meet to explode
(you know, in an abstract way, where the entrance was to have work around 1970)
living in accordance with men fighting over and over and over a mirror

the more unfortunate Feminism in an option for dancing!
the reintegration of the night at one–
one or two, but she is kinda sore from her fire escape into the jungle to have a drink (plenty)

I know I didn’t think it was special.
new theme can I please have a dangerous life

the more unfortunate Feminism in beet blood
holy shit my favorite burning thing is better/the sunlight was bling/was really fucked me
the assignment was correct because they’re so grateful to have power.

don’t get yourself run over by that August
(all teenagers, all in custody)
dangermongering or imaginary…

the more unfortunate Feminism in the beach house?
the reintegration of the gendered body May 31 to June 1?
the reintegration of saying that he knows a type of sadness that God made/a lot of waiting

emotions are inappropriate to talk to me
sometimes the laughing is too much and you gotta whip your hair around
(you know, in an abstract way, where the assignment was correct me)

I can’t say that because you splayed out sideways with a tiny earthquake?
excuse me, I’d like to share my own

to be considered a champion for symmetry’s sake
when I was wearing the Rings of Saturn?
(talk about weathering alone)

last day to check out/to notice or care that your exhaust pipe gouged its proper historical context
the reintegration of great confederate ghosts
well, you can not do anything with the times?

look at her to keep screaming
and this happens privately between the tail feathers
the more than half of last year’s moods
one way to go deep freezer in her transition

because anger is archived here
no idea you splayed out crosswise with your feet out of speaking
and this was just a typo, and I didn’t think reading the words DOMA declared unconstitutional could make me if I refuse to blame Beyoncé

damn this pidgin lesbian I need
the more unfortunate Feminism in more positive terms
is not too proud tired sunburnt queer

from scraps of the day Our identity
I know I’m all signed up to think this

Author’s note: all these lines (along with 100s, maybe 1,000s more) were computer-generated combinations of things I’ve said on the internet.

ELIZABETH GROSS landed again, on her feet this time, in New Orleans. Her dreams are still peopled by friends in New York, though, and she left part of her spine in Prague. Her poems have recently appeared in Tuba, LEVELER, Painted Bride Quarterly, B O D Y, and elsewhere, and are forthcoming in The Lumberyard and the The Queer South, an anthology from Sibling Rivalry Press. She currently teaches literature and writing for Bard Early College in New Orleans.

More by Elizabeth Gross:

Poems in B O D Y