Four Poems by Eve Packer

Four Poems

by Eve Packer

 
 

Photo Copyright © Eve Packer, 2016

Photo Copyright © Eve Packer, 2016


 
 
march 29, ’16
 
please accept my apologies.
i am very tired and its windy.
the cupcake cafe
closed sunday.
left bank books, and st. marks
bookshop last week.
i told ruthie, the reporter
from the ny times that
its like a part of my body
is being dis-
membered—but she
wasnt interested
in me. dont blame her.
i flash on the logo
for anatomy of a murder—
cupcake cafe, is that a
finger, a toe, an entire
arm?
 
~eve packer
 
 

 

 
 
today: 11/19/15: &
 
how can i get past
bombs placed in
planes espresso
wine sippers
having, or not,
a cigarette—
eviscerated
              by AK-47’s,
students &
popcorn munchers
shredded blown
apart for the crime
of waking up
alive—

oh, if only—
humans had
one, a shard, a fraction
of a single
angel wing—
 
~eve packer, n.y.c./11.19.15
 
 

Photo Copyright © Eve Packer, 2016

Photo Copyright © Eve Packer, 2016

 
 
walking w/morphine
 
on this city street packed w/
97° heat, cars trucks buses taxis honking
fumes, african-indian vendors hawking
fruit, bracelets, shades, i saw a woman
w/a twisted face, like one of those twisted
ghost dance masks, she was all in diaphanous black, big
lipstick, bad drugs or
plastic surgery, i wish i cld stop needing to vomit, come
down
from this substance, its tough
 
~eve packer
 
 

 
 
end of march
 
when you walk east across 9th ave
on 40th, back of port authority,
on what was, still is, the ugliest street:
past the 99cent pizza, that used to be
the funky polish diner, past the new
marriot and emerald garden hilton
that for a short while was the second
siberia, past the parole board, and
construction site, the hard hat tells me
will be a 23 story hotel, past the side of
the three story brick building held up
by huge wood struts, you enter
thru the glass door:

the realm of danger:
weng’s palace,
chinese fast-food joint—

you end up where you travel—
two guys leaning on plywood counter—
just travel man—

you order one small white rice: $1.50,
snap some photos, walk out past
athens liquor, down the stairs past
the last dvd-video store, now underground,
past the kid huddled and shaking
against subway wall, boots
untied, arms and hand over
face and mouth

the light
is changing
but not the temp,
girl, short skirt,
on her cell:
you never know
the whole story

when you get home the rice
still warm
 
~eve packer, nyc:3/27-28/15
 
 

Photo Copyright © Eve Packer, 2016

Photo Copyright © Eve Packer, 2016

 
 

Eve Packer Photo Copyright © Hortencio Gomes, 2016

Eve Packer Photo Copyright © Hortencio Gomes, 2016

Bronx-born, poet/performer, Eve Packer has appeared widely, solo, w/music, in theatre and dance. She has received grants from NYSCA, NYFA, the NEH, Puffin Foundations, and awards from Time to Consider: the Arts Respond to 9/11, also from the Chester H. Jones Foundation, Downtown and Conceit Magazines.

She has published three poetry books: skulls head samba,playland poems 1994-2004, and new nails (2011) (Fly By Night), and has 4 full poetry/jazz CD’s, and first and last w/saxophonist Noah Howard; in 2013 she released my champagne waltz w/ pianist/vocalist Stephanie Stone & multi-instrumentalist Daniel Carter. 2015 saw the release of poetry/jazz: nywoman: poetry/jazz highlights. Coordinates a loose collective of downtown writer/artists, What Happens Next. Teaches at WCC. Lives downtown and swims daily.

Donald Hall: ‘I salute her as the Weegee poet…’(Ploughshares, spring ’05)
Stephen Wolf: ‘This NY woman’s poems are fun, thrilling, provocative,
her wit, sharp as stiletto heels, seeing her perform is even better…’
(The Villager)

Posted on by urbangraffito Posted in Photography, Poetry, Writing

One Response to Four Poems by Eve Packer

  1. eve packer

    woweezowie plusplusplus gee whiz and so much more, thanks so much—looks gorgeous—
    e

Add a Comment