Caroline Knox’s collection A Beaker: New and Selected Poems was recently released by Verse Press. Her work has appeared in The American Scholar, The American Voice, Massachusetts Review, The Paris Review, Ploughshares, Poetry and elsewhere. Her work has been anthologized in The Best American Poetry 1988 and 1994.



Jelly Bird Egg, the presence of a soup of beans


sends the consumer, can and all.  Ice cream


resists chews by that very consumer by aggregate of sugar pustules.




Jelly Bird Egg, made by Psychotherapy Chicken,


full of willingness to doubt self, others, and be pleased,


here at the Snazzatorium, to apprehend


just such a Jelly Bird Egg as God rolled from her or his mind for you.







I Speak out of the Exeter Book


in a “mildly frightening way ... usurping the human


prerogative of speech.”  A parallelogram


like the deflected element in cutwork


(an embroidery technique), I ask you who I am.  Diane Glancy


said, “These letters can be read as holes in the text.”


You can look through them.  What is there.  Fabio and Charro.




The hole is a gate.  I am a field like a sieve.


I may have been made by Hwaetbert, Abbot of Wearmouth,


and friend of the Venerable Bede, who invented the rosary,


or Hildegarde von Binghamton, maybe a SUNY grad student?









Boot and Bonnet


He picked me up in the vaunted car.


When Milton wrote, “The gilded car




of day,”  he meant this car, a NASCAR


reject, with a broccoli elastic holding the tailpipe on the car.




“‘Special’ is such a general word,” he of the car


allowed to me, dreaming in the car.






and Driver is his favorite car




magazine.  In Connecticut they have Connecticar,


which brings you borrowed books in its car.




A worn Bokhara lines the trunk of the car.


Brits say boot for trunk, and bonnet for the front of the car.