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I N H A R M S W A YPOEMS ABOUT FUCKING
FREEDOM AND PSYCH WARDS
BY WIN HARMS
B A R N C O T T P R E S S LONDON - AMSTERDAM - PARIS - BELGRADE - NEW YORK -
KATHMANDU - CAPE TOWN
In Harms Way
© Win Harms 2015
Cover photograph © Hideyuki Ishibashi.
Back cover & interior photographs © Nicholas Chase Kessler.
All Rights Reserved
Published in print and ebook editions
Barncott Press 2015.
ISBN (Europe): 13: 978-1516857227
ISBN (USA): 10: 1516857224
www.barncottpress.com
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION 1
80 PROOF LOVE 3
HEADS 4
TAILS 5
AMERICAN BOY 7
AUGUST BABY 8
CHICAGO WARD 10
BEAT POEM 11
CONFESSION 13
CULTURE SHOCK 14
DEAD DAUGHTER 17
DEAD ROSES 18
DEATH BY TV 19
DELUSION 20
DROWNING 21
EDGE OF EXISTENCE 22
ELEKTRA EUPHEMISMS 24
FEAR 26
IGNITED 28
INFIDELITY IN ATLANTIC CITY 29
MIDWEST TATTOO 30
SO THERE IT WAS 31
STOWAWAY 32
SUNRISE 34
THOSE WERE THE DAYS 35
UNDER CONTROL 15
About the Author 17
* This a free sample from ‘In Harms Way’
by Win Harms (Barncott Press 2015),
available in print and ebook editions.
Full purchasing details are here.
INTRODUCTION
What do audiences look for in a young woman poet
after the teen angst is gone and with it the cutting,
the Ritalin, the Prozac, junkie chic and bitten red
finger nails?
Does the reader want a pithy, twelve-step
renaissance somewhere around the late twenties,
neatly swallowing the feminist pill like it’s the
gateway drug to embracing the sisterhood of female
poets?
But what if you are like writer of poems, Win
Harms, with a heat-seeking bullshit detector who
doesn't give a shit about feminism because chivalry
can't be dead if you've never heard of it.
1
80 PROOF LOVE
i was dreaming of conclusion when i heard the
crash of a hard drive mind in a yellow raincoat
his dreams got squared by a second grade
teacher who kicked a girl out of class for
having cool ideas she says that kids don’t live
the way they should radical plans to rule the world
i’d run away to canada but i hate the cold
eyes of his girlfriend as he sneaks a look in
my direction and in his mind i’m running my hands
across his thighs i could not help to crucify her in
a drunken state on a cross made of bedposts
let her die for my sins it plays a trick on my mind
i think it’s his knock but white trash climb in my bed
and whisper hell into my head if i could get away
i would believe in god since it would take a miracle
to yank me away from an 80 proof love
i chased the tequila sunrise with a three
month hangover and i was handcuffed to the
steering wheel with my own addictions
i saw him die that night with a head full of acid
and a stain on his shirt somehow we made it back
and i could swear the pavement was melting
as she drove past the motel for the seventh time
i wanted the gun that held me the night before
but it was too late for we were already dead
3
HEADS
sugar dew drop in your words (not unlike happy tears
running down my sunburned cheeks) to live? Not to live?
that is not a question now nor will it ever be again
characteristically speaking, something about you
travels over my skin like grave dancers and an ocean wave
ecstasy over your curls (creating palpitations with every
touch and never floating far from my mind)
angels covet or want as, covet is sin,
your sun kissed smile and lights (maybe even stars)
brighten when you arrive
4
TAILS
transcendent behavior marked by soft words
could i fall so readily? so out of time and out
of touch? goddess on my knees you or
maybe not you (maybe the illusion of you in
my world running faster than sounds) force against
me while the grass turns a shade of love in the
summertime as rain whispers your name in my ear
grasping sugar sunshine in the cool wet places
only you know, only i know we comprehend
illusions not found in the common eye
5
AMERICAN BOY
today or tomorrow
while you are were out
we said the pledge
of allegiance
hands over our hearts
eyes on the flag or
gazing out the window
not hearing the poetry
of such majestic words
he speaks without a clue
i thought i loved him once
blond hair blue eyes
off soon to fight
in a civil war our fathers
did not start but joined
just the same
now he stands
the perfect american boy
7
AUGUST BABY
august baby and i know where you are
still i keep searching for traces of you
the crossword puzzle spells out your
favorite color
i catch a taste of you in the
candy aisle at seven eleven
every poem i’ve written before or after you
sounds like your breath as you asked me
is the captain at home?
i saturated myself with you
in the spring time
i let my life explode like fireworks
as we watched the ashes
falling to the ground
we went big then you went home
while i was left with a
red suitcase and an empty flask
still i keep screaming your name
8
CHICAGO WARD
edwin chased razor blades with pinesol
miguel is a chronic masturbator who said
come with me, you want to do sex?
miriam punched me twice, hard
i took lithium and clonopin
with no one to stop me but myself
and now I’m sitting here with these
ghosts, shells of the person you were
i can’t even call so you can
laugh at me
while i wear the pajama pants
the woman who read us our vows wore
800 miles and three suicide attempts
(one successful, two not)
away from a beautiful day in march
ten years ago we thought
crazy could be cured
now the man has become the myth
and the woman has been left a widow
10
BEAT POEM
i numb my mind with cartoons and high grade marijuana
spouting off outrageous claims like “i am going to kill the
president” or
“i am the chosen one; the sun god told me so”
i am a caffeine fiend and nicotine queen
ex (future) junkie whore if this bit doesn’t work
i remember everything, even the things i say i don’t
every second of this comedy called life
where everyone is seeking mysteries but
forgetting about reality
i see the beauty in all: art, poetry, hoboes, and
naked people dancing in the street
i see the hazy visions
i can never tell for i am the keeper of the children
each and every one of you i am the mother, protector
i am always there, waiting for you
the scandals that surround me are true
i am only half angel
the shadows find me, too
but i know the way
the rest we’ll catch as catch can
burn the flags and smoke the pipes
run with the hunted and hide in the light
11
CONFESSION
this confession, long overdue, is not sordid and sad
in our confusion and grief one turns the ordinary into
dare i say fantastic? in time the mystery starts to
unravel, and it is seen that life is synonymous with
love, death, beauty, hatred, sex, hunger, greed, and
standing before everything the ever present IF or
GOD the entity that created and drives all living things \a monarchy for people who fear themselves and the horrid
truth that goes with looking yourself in the eyes crying when it is better to laugh and hanging on others as if they are the only thing that can bring you to your light (she sighed at this
point in her drunken rambling to point out that despite what she said when she was fourteen, true love does exist, and a
long island iced tea was the only appropriate way to honor dead friends) confession... i have seen the light and it isn’t far away just give me your oceans and shores, your
mountains and your trees!!!! i will bow down and at these things my spirit is free even if my hands are bound now i bid
you a fine fare well and may your
journeys be as cluster-fucked and chaotic as mine
13
UNDER CONTROL
my bruises were the color of revenge in a pinkish
tone revenge for words i didn't say words he heard
years ago from some nobody walking down the
street like some kind of hard ass but i got a knife held
to my throat as he told me to take off my clothes i
guess i shouldn't come here anymore i never learn
those days were things i couldn't dream my mind
was liquid and my hands shook what's your name
little girl? but i wasn't little i was 36-24-36 and i could
rule the world once he took me aside and said don't
you worry your pretty little head you want it you got
it and and i was a PRINCESS running down the
street from screeching tires that chased me across
town and finally caught up thrown in the backseat
with a half breed who kissed my neck and took my
money my freedom my life everything will be a.g.
'cause we got it all under control... and there i lie on
this hotel bed watching him convulse from some
kind of overdose but he'll be fine 'cause they got it
UNDER CONTROL and i took a 40 oz to quench
my thirst as i heard my name in his plans i wanna talk
and i sighed knowing no words would come from
these lips because i never had a conversation that
involved words when they had me under control
15
About the Author
Win Harms is a poet living in France. She hails from
the state of the cowboy poetry contest, but she has lived pretty much everywhere, including many psych
wards, and considers herself a survivor of the struggle. The chaos has ceased and now she spends her time doing needlepoint and laundry, but longs to share her
words with the world. As of last year, she left her roaring twenties, and is now feeling fecund and free.
She regularly posts new poems on her website: www.winharms.wordpress.com/
Also by Win Harms:
‘October 22’ (Barncott Press 2014)‘Boys and Booze’ (Hand-bound, 2015)
* This a free sample from ‘In Harms Way’
by Win Harms (Barncott Press 2015),
available in print and ebook editions.
Full purchasing details are here.
BARNCOTT PRESS
17