Jordyn Murray


This is that laid bare.
Is for example
him crouching by window briefed chilled and benighted awaiting the thought. Gooseflesh
he is and little else
when it comes down to it. Not for him cufflinks, the clinking heaviness
muffled nor laces to patent leather nor kidskin. Nor bowtie his
the motheaten stuff or nothing at all and you can be sure
that two of the two always are denied him. In a house like this there are so many closets and so
many locks. If he has a specialty it is to ken all that are kin to him. For example the nosebleed
unnoticed by the bleeder, split skin in the corner of the mouth.


In my lifetime I’ve been given two drawings of a fever. One was body within body within body
and some exponential notation. One was lines as if light in slowed sight. Neither fever was mine.
My fever will only bear singing.


druther bathe in the dark.

in the flood irrigation

neath neglected trees.

it’s severe unkingly but.

inside the electric light

urine the close hot smell

and there in the mirror.

don’t want to breathe want to

be clean


we received instruction

do not seek to destroy do not
wear fuchsia-colored things       raiment
shall be of indigo         children
of any sex       shall be named mildred doris
dorcas phyllis–


Hell the long sweaty sleep

and Hell to wake
to preparatory sounds;
zippers, spirits on the stair,
pianos being tuned

yes it was red yes this affirmative is all that I can do for you

correct. Hell is a paper and not a foil town. they use talc there to unstick themselves from
everything, white clouds seething from underneath each
shirtsleeve white spray creeping up the neck. in the powder you can see
the pattern of liquid on the skin where it was frozen by
Progress, Savagery

JORDYN MURRAY is a writer, performance artist and papermaker from Arizona. She currently studies at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Her poetry collection Listen Cloistered (2016) is available in a hand bound letterpress edition by Black Thumb Press.