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AUX ARC TRYPT ICH: Poppycock and Assphodel; Winter; A Night of Dark Trees
A triptych of wild, lyric love poems that are, at heart, an ode to Arkansas.Set among blue Ozark creeks, hoods of trucks, and changing constellations, Cody-Rose Clevidence’s poems call up embodied sensations as they arise, with love and anguish, in a specific place. Navigating between senses and the sensed world, in lyric, lushness and density, Clevidence constructs an intricate and playful poetics both experimental and emotive to investigate the interplay between the vivid sensations of the body and the viscerally surrounding world.
- GenresPoetry
176 pages, Kindle Edition
Published November 2, 2021
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
July 27, 2024
ORCHASTROPHE
“an ordinary error placed me here”
in the serotonin corridors of my wilderness in the neural
nets are caught in the mackerellight & ozone of my heart
in the tense muscle of a crocus olfactory bulb of my acre
prime sublingual rib lost in the magnum
opus of my heart independent of void most
utterly devoid of song tiny hummingbird of my eyes violet
quarrel deep in the forests verbage of my heart redundant
of crocus redundant of dogwood & redbud as petals
fall triumphant so too I am at a loss & will blind
the cathedrals of my knowing with the overabundant scripture
of my heart will salivate copiously & with abandon
in the blue gloaming I mean groaning of my heart
in the citadel the sap salty in the flexed limbs the mist dripping
off each leaf called to each I call to each I say
“leaf” I say “violet” I say “mist” I say “dogtooth violet” I say
“how can I possibly bear whatever grief will inevitably come towards
me through all the corridors of my life” I say “I will blind the
cathedrals of my knowing” I say “I will douse the careless peony”
“I will vyy earnestly & with moderate valor” “I will curse fervently &
gesticulate also” "I will have numerous & varied loves"
“I will try to not drink so much” “I will strain the verb of my
being into the dim groaning” “as too I strain my sight there”
“I succumb henceforth & wholeheartedly” “eventually I will get
up from wherever I have laid myself down” the falcons too must eat
in the endless neurobiology of the forest
the delicate, the careless lichen of my eyes
I swallow the great creek of dusk in me it calls up a surge in me
it goes along into the dark it goes along into the dark (1*)
from [I think there is]
Petunia, petulance, numbskull, pestilence,
foxglove (poisonous) morning-star,
happenstance, ring-cycle, little dove, hard
winter, ____ [love]
Slip-shod, daisy chain, oxymoron, lions-mane
curse of knowing, eyelid noise, sucker punch,
to-dull-the-pain—
to dwell there, mitigate, fovea, aspirate,
solemnly, dormant seed, rend asunder,
— hesitate— (20)
[pale me ] barely ] barely ]
pale me ] barely ] barely ] just
hold there ] steady on th' [lim]b
]inthought ] tho daunt
-ed inward] ly shrug'd out [ th' sun
forgot. a pale in me [low swung ]flow swung
sweet] ly be ] coo [rage] coo [rupt] {dove
or divin {énd}ed leaves, me {sortof sweetly sung}
in heat less loss ] most
must utter ] lost—
in moss ] most must own ] th' sun's hill'd
rim of breaking ] dawn "over" ] & spill't
{it piles up} {it fills it} (up) & {it descends} (49)
[it fill]
it fill up my
mtn it shun
my ardor it
sayeth & echo
it rhyme lichen
w moss
it cross
th threshold
into language
& recedes
into verb (57)
from Winter
give grief its
endless pasture
I do not accept
this bell in me (86)
from "Girl On Her Knees Discharges a Flower Basket"
is yr wild indigo blooming
are th photoreceptors
in yr eyes ready for what happens next
have you taken over th body by force
has th chemical expanse washed over u, wrung
u out, hung u up
to dry in th sun, linen of my eyes,
blue quilt, blue washcloth, blue sky,
plunge & combat, lie— even th rocks
can stand up and answer, why
can't you. (134)
from "And Whose Voice, For Th First time, Moved No One" Or "I Can Be Gentle"
is that salt—or is it snow— those terrestial
crop circles spun by th endless endless combines
of my heart, dappled, striated, pierced, crisscrossed,
veined, wearily, patiently, painfully, I go.
my legs are numb and tingly, th long
barrel of my rifle hot, th cattails bruised and battered, th
sky bruised and raining, th iris that blooms in
th winter of my eyes turns its bruised eye to th ground
scattered w buckshot. I will gag th lilies w a gasoline soaked rag,
come spring. stack tires around my fig trees in th snow. oscillat-
ing wildly between chickadee and bird of prey, between snake and
discarded skin, I roam, eagle less, un-nouned, an arch and a bridge
between myself and time, an echo and rhyme in th deep baptisms.
I want to call into question th holiness of this forest;
th snack that lives in my throat; th warm air
of th wingbeats of yr breath around my face. (144)
[...]
think of th bacchic rites
think of grief
think of summer, of every summer, think
of grief, think of th best sex you've ever had,
think of bodies in pain, think of th sensation
of relief, th palliative need, think of grief.
think of th act of laying
th body into th grave, think of alms, of
th act of honoring, receiving honor, kneeling,
being bound, think of memory. think of summer,
laying th body down, remember digging, think of th
body you would turn to, blue shirt, a noise
made half in th nose, half in th throat, think of
turning over in yr sleep, now a noise
made mostly in th mouth and throat, think
of bodies sleeping, turning over
in their sleep, think of grief. each
masterpiece was made piece by piece.
think of th sensation of loss, think of th
sensation of coming, think of things to
hold in yr hands, think of cups, and dirt,
think of skin, and eyes, and teeth. bite
th blue cloth and think of
grief. think of summer. think of
th memory of th loss. (149)
from Mercy{Addendum}
find one form and then let loose another (171)
“an ordinary error placed me here”
in the serotonin corridors of my wilderness in the neural
nets are caught in the mackerellight & ozone of my heart
in the tense muscle of a crocus olfactory bulb of my acre
prime sublingual rib lost in the magnum
opus of my heart independent of void most
utterly devoid of song tiny hummingbird of my eyes violet
quarrel deep in the forests verbage of my heart redundant
of crocus redundant of dogwood & redbud as petals
fall triumphant so too I am at a loss & will blind
the cathedrals of my knowing with the overabundant scripture
of my heart will salivate copiously & with abandon
in the blue gloaming I mean groaning of my heart
in the citadel the sap salty in the flexed limbs the mist dripping
off each leaf called to each I call to each I say
“leaf” I say “violet” I say “mist” I say “dogtooth violet” I say
“how can I possibly bear whatever grief will inevitably come towards
me through all the corridors of my life” I say “I will blind the
cathedrals of my knowing” I say “I will douse the careless peony”
“I will vyy earnestly & with moderate valor” “I will curse fervently &
gesticulate also” "I will have numerous & varied loves"
“I will try to not drink so much” “I will strain the verb of my
being into the dim groaning” “as too I strain my sight there”
“I succumb henceforth & wholeheartedly” “eventually I will get
up from wherever I have laid myself down” the falcons too must eat
in the endless neurobiology of the forest
the delicate, the careless lichen of my eyes
I swallow the great creek of dusk in me it calls up a surge in me
it goes along into the dark it goes along into the dark (1*)
from [I think there is]
Petunia, petulance, numbskull, pestilence,
foxglove (poisonous) morning-star,
happenstance, ring-cycle, little dove, hard
winter, ____ [love]
Slip-shod, daisy chain, oxymoron, lions-mane
curse of knowing, eyelid noise, sucker punch,
to-dull-the-pain—
to dwell there, mitigate, fovea, aspirate,
solemnly, dormant seed, rend asunder,
— hesitate— (20)
[pale me ] barely ] barely ]
pale me ] barely ] barely ] just
hold there ] steady on th' [lim]b
]inthought ] tho daunt
-ed inward] ly shrug'd out [ th' sun
forgot. a pale in me [low swung ]flow swung
sweet] ly be ] coo [rage] coo [rupt] {dove
or divin {énd}ed leaves, me {sortof sweetly sung}
in heat less loss ] most
must utter ] lost—
in moss ] most must own ] th' sun's hill'd
rim of breaking ] dawn "over" ] & spill't
{it piles up} {it fills it} (up) & {it descends} (49)
[it fill]
it fill up my
mtn it shun
my ardor it
sayeth & echo
it rhyme lichen
w moss
it cross
th threshold
into language
& recedes
into verb (57)
from Winter
give grief its
endless pasture
I do not accept
this bell in me (86)
from "Girl On Her Knees Discharges a Flower Basket"
is yr wild indigo blooming
are th photoreceptors
in yr eyes ready for what happens next
have you taken over th body by force
has th chemical expanse washed over u, wrung
u out, hung u up
to dry in th sun, linen of my eyes,
blue quilt, blue washcloth, blue sky,
plunge & combat, lie— even th rocks
can stand up and answer, why
can't you. (134)
from "And Whose Voice, For Th First time, Moved No One" Or "I Can Be Gentle"
is that salt—or is it snow— those terrestial
crop circles spun by th endless endless combines
of my heart, dappled, striated, pierced, crisscrossed,
veined, wearily, patiently, painfully, I go.
my legs are numb and tingly, th long
barrel of my rifle hot, th cattails bruised and battered, th
sky bruised and raining, th iris that blooms in
th winter of my eyes turns its bruised eye to th ground
scattered w buckshot. I will gag th lilies w a gasoline soaked rag,
come spring. stack tires around my fig trees in th snow. oscillat-
ing wildly between chickadee and bird of prey, between snake and
discarded skin, I roam, eagle less, un-nouned, an arch and a bridge
between myself and time, an echo and rhyme in th deep baptisms.
I want to call into question th holiness of this forest;
th snack that lives in my throat; th warm air
of th wingbeats of yr breath around my face. (144)
[...]
think of th bacchic rites
think of grief
think of summer, of every summer, think
of grief, think of th best sex you've ever had,
think of bodies in pain, think of th sensation
of relief, th palliative need, think of grief.
think of th act of laying
th body into th grave, think of alms, of
th act of honoring, receiving honor, kneeling,
being bound, think of memory. think of summer,
laying th body down, remember digging, think of th
body you would turn to, blue shirt, a noise
made half in th nose, half in th throat, think of
turning over in yr sleep, now a noise
made mostly in th mouth and throat, think
of bodies sleeping, turning over
in their sleep, think of grief. each
masterpiece was made piece by piece.
think of th sensation of loss, think of th
sensation of coming, think of things to
hold in yr hands, think of cups, and dirt,
think of skin, and eyes, and teeth. bite
th blue cloth and think of
grief. think of summer. think of
th memory of th loss. (149)
from Mercy{Addendum}
find one form and then let loose another (171)
September 7, 2023
Probably closer to three and a half stars.
Much of this poetry has a sonorous quality that is vibrant and unique. From a purely aural perspective, interesting things are happening. However, this was marred for me by the highly affected use of typographical symbols, overwrought interjections of “plain” speech contrasting with high register diction, and the baffling use of “th” instead of “the” in the vast majority of cases.
This felt like an exercise in a poetry workshop rather than anyone’s authentic voice- it was an interesting experiment, but left me emotionally flat.
Much of this poetry has a sonorous quality that is vibrant and unique. From a purely aural perspective, interesting things are happening. However, this was marred for me by the highly affected use of typographical symbols, overwrought interjections of “plain” speech contrasting with high register diction, and the baffling use of “th” instead of “the” in the vast majority of cases.
This felt like an exercise in a poetry workshop rather than anyone’s authentic voice- it was an interesting experiment, but left me emotionally flat.
December 1, 2024
Oh shit. This was just right up my alley--queer, experimental text, earthbound spiritual perceptiveness, and set in The Ozarks, my home woods. I'm not sure what else to say. I might start it over right now.
October 16, 2025
This was awesome I only want to read weird experimental poetry by queer people forever
May 7, 2023
Not for me. There are some beautiful lines but most is disjointed and repetitive and I didn’t feel a connection with much of it. Definitely might’ve been my headspace though so I will need to revisit!
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews