Lightsey Darst

Lightsey Darst
Lightsey Darst writes, dances, writes about dance and other arts, and teaches in Minneapolis. Her books are Find the Girl and the forthcoming DANCE (both Coffee House Press). Her poetic work appears in Typo, Spork, and Diagram. Her criticism is online at mnartists.org and Bookslut.

Works on Revolver

Short //
From the Underbook #5 by

You run away like the usual shadow of my southbound train. / Again: bird tracks in ice & I mistook them / for your tiny feet / —but I would know you, wouldn’t I, my / casualty / among all the world’s sighs.

Short //
From the Underbook #4 by

More clearly? I do my best. / “Painfully”—though she might / have meant prayerfully, night / full of drams or drawn, dark rain & the rest—

Short //
From the Underbook #2 by

Dear was burned, / Here we are losing our balance differently now. / Our once field now fireweed’s fuchsia spikes. / Here is our shoulder that was a wing in the before. / Can you mourn what grows?

Short //
From the Underbook #1 by

Ghost courses. / Sixth floor waiting room, view / from above: / rabid traffic surges round the cloverleaf—seemed / a mild intersection enough / when I drove it.

Short //
The troubles by

Be careful going home tonight: protect / your family in a culture that’s gone stark raving mad, craving for firepower, sawn- / off shotgun level at an intruder’s chest, handgun unless you feel it’s your last chance, / use an explosive amount of force & threats, if so you are asking for a home invasion robbery.