Some favourite passages from the book I've just read, Michelle Detorie's first collection, After-Cave. Note I couldn't always recreate her spacing.
These come from the first section, "Fur Birds":
Each of us was asked to speak, and it was with reluctance and kindness that I lied.
We swing and twitch the tune, the lungs brimming.
The body is broken into parts and yet flows together like water.
I am animal; there is no becoming.
Your heart, it's a knot
of flames, a knave
of feathers. In
the dream sea, green
words flex and shiver.
From the second section, "Feralscape":
A book is a room.
I am a house.
There are so many pink bones
in the yellow paper dress
a girl wears into the woods. In this story the trees
are sentences that blow away.
we sleekly become, without teeth
or tongue like
silky, frayed, gleaming: a continuance
from the last section, "The Data Is Feminine: After-Cave":
was yellow then, a spool
of floss wound with light.
No sudden for the wintered.
You tell me that the pyramids were the product of collaboration, innovative project management, but I know already that what made them was slave labor--a capsized river of bones and blood.
The easiest way I found to obtain Detorie's After-Cave in the UK was through Abe Books here.