January 9, 2018. Photo: Laurel Hayne-Miller.


††††††††††† January long light
††††††††††† Janus†††† I see you
††††††††††† God of locks and doorways

††††††††††† two-faced looking in Capricorn
††††††††††† Capricorn like the snowy owl
††††††††††††††††††††††† irruption

††††††††††† We fear heavy body collisions

††††††††††† January†††† time of doors
††††††††††† time looking back on itself
††††††††††††††††††††††† God of gates

††††††††††††††††††††††† spelt and salt

††††††††††† They say when you
††††††††††† walk through a door

††††††††††† you can forget what
††††††††††††††††††††††† you came for

–Hoa Nguyen,†VIOLET ENERGY INGOTS††(Wave Books, 2016)

he’s †††using his phone to choke
& †††kill small animals

but †††I....but I

to †††be free.... she protested...
she †††was lying, cousin

of†††† explaining
Laura†††† Dern’s hair

subway†††† in which not poems
but†††† the idea of poetry’s been deployed

to†††† sell life insurance
both†††† a boring & morally

disquieting†††† thing to buy†††† intimating
the†††† entire orchestra

melting†††† asphalt in

you†††† would take it very
seriously†††† a Barthes an anthropologist

would†††† you would
you†††† would likewise††††

tune†††† it out†††† we would†† we all work
hard†††† smoking the steam

off†††† longing
you†††† can’t spend

fried†††† sacred bird††††
Laura†††† Dern’s hair††

a†††† cooked
black†††† vein wheeling

into†††† the bulging bloodshot
eye†† of the lotus†††† I’m keeping

this†††† left

so†††† they won’t complain
too†††† much laying it out

this†††† one more truthful because
more†††† sensual

a†††† room full of beautiful women in black
but†††† I am an actor too†††† she protested

see†††† how I dissemble in the dark†† to my very
organs†††† even to my owen

soul†††† Salvador Salvador
I†††† think I know†††† he works all night

the†††† rest of them made alone inside the same
device†††† I too carry

the†††† single

good†††† reason to be combed
from†††† a thousand††

apposite†††† but dead

go†††† within my child
said†††† the parody of a guru


in†††† snow


now†††† in the door


Thank you for all the peacock stories, parents narratives, sunrise (& sunset!) photos, & all the music! Keep it coming: lazyeyehaver@gmail.com or letters@artforum.com.

I swear I didn’t do anything to my phone except mentally recite the phrase “warmest sunrise of the year” as I hit record.

Ariana Reines

Ariana Reines is a poet & playwright. She astrologizes at†lazyeyehaver.com.