Ann Pedone

Months ago I blew a man who had
just hit the limits of language. And then I lost
track. Put all my faith into a kind of
here-and-thereness. The sort of thing that
people oftentimes confuse with the body.

Contemporary architecture makes me jittery. Back
seat full of plastic folding chairs. I want to be a yes man
Driving from Fresno to LA but only because
lyric poetry and the camera were both invented by the same person

Repetitive acts:
Passing out in public
Tying up all my money in God damn foreign currencies
Knowing nothing about salvation
My mouth is possibly infected with
someone else’s piss. Both
my mother and father came from the Old. World
and yet the bus’s brakes have been
whistling for the last forty-five. Minutes
Back when semen rhymed with rack
of lamb. My therapist always says all
memories are an entrance, into the present tense

Ann Pedone’s books include The Medea Notebooks (Etruscan Press) and The Italian Professor’s Wife (Press 53). Her poetry, non-fiction, and reviews have recently appeared in Michigan Quarterly Review, Posit, Texas Review,  ANMLY, and The American Journal of Poetry. She was a finalist for the 2024 Levi’s Prize. Ann is the founder and editor-in-chief of the journal and small press, antiphony.