Sandra Doller (née Miller) has a new name. Her first book Oriflamme (2005) and her second book Chora (2010) are both are from Ahsahta Press.
These pieces are from her third collection, called Man Years. Sandra Doller is the founder & editrice of a fancy magazine & press, the curiously named 1913. She teaches at Cal State University and lives way out west with her man, Ben Doller (né Doyle) and their pups Ronald Johnson and Kiki Smith.
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The Bite
Their tails curls up
how do they know
they straighten it
their beautiful
tarmac
She registered obedience
late
it landed right side up
I got him
he can’t go
think about cobra
I went florida with
he won’t
slag the badger hunt
unwasteful reptile
how meeting atomic
on the ground
All domestic
bridges over the tub
sorry darling
I am all watered
out months of tusk
I think we have to offer
them something
seventy sandwiches
a year
these things all eat
for me
the story of
the square and the ear
a match
Hadn’t left abite
of river
consume your naturals
a lifetime
relative hat
zebric teenage ohno
societal honey
in the It pink dress
5 years has she been
keeping a schedule
and born
Small red stomach
I saw a camouflage
hanging
flag
overall
What happened to the world
in the denim t-shirt
too relevant
to boy
call a kabob a kabob
high tea in a war
catch planetary red jacket
sympathetic rooting contagion
When your lapse
assistant
rolls you over
that’s my train
After the revolution
there will be no
organza
That’s my arm
assisting
we run like packs
if we have legs
or sense
it’s intentional
what the holy make
of how often we wrack
I just slid it across
the table to you
Eat, eat.
Commend me to the lake
Kale po—
po harder
Situational pulling, a.
This ebony and that
how much time it takes
to get here
—red chair blue chair green—
The water’s always grey—
depending on who’s wearing it.
Always already this year.
No sound but pup sound—
let’s go shadow leaping, you and I
and him, the dog, the one who’s
always there, that one, the plus one, us one.
—Know how birds?
—Very carefully.
Is this a pregnancy, this hold?
Shadow harder
this bank account’s ankle.
Stank
in the thank tank.
—Hope it hops along hop hop hop.