The Living Dead Woman's Nightmare Theater
does not sell tickets on fandango ::
when she remembers moving
pictures, she thinks zoetrope ::
or was that trauma scope :: orslanted motes :: the ghost of
horse :: train arrived as dust ::
la ciotat :: a brush of lips less
blue than cataract :: why shehas known more grit, more
pearl in vitreous humor ::
what she remembers is not
so silent :: as stifled shout ::her breath at end of days ::
apocalypse on roundabout
The Living Dead Woman Has Never Been a Riveter
intentionally :: she's never been a taxi-
dancer or taxidermist :: she cannot fix
a gaze askew :: once rossetti could
brush her as a stunner :: in mulberryfichu :: his dark eyes filled with flicker
from sitter back to canvas :: they've
fallen now :: as the living's often do ::
pneumatic gun cannot reset irisesto filter sun :: or feather likeness ::
she'd rather not be muse :: let her,
instead, be maker, welder, artisan ::
let her burn to cherry :: hum of hexnub to bore her way, torch alcatraz,
get out of coffin, lined with lead
The Living Dead Woman's Bestiary
of beings that should exist but don't
except on screen where she does little
to encourage replication :: what's not
obscene to outrage :: she violatesintegrity, tradition by existing and sub-
sisting :: if leftovers can be remixed
to conjure pulse :: some feathers, fur ::
a golden plover crossed with kooka-bird :: a thorny magpie dragon ::
she'd settle for a statin to offset
blur :: if she can't rescue had-
enough-and-up-to-here, she'drather take disaster as incentive
to evolve :: let v.r. get here faster
The Living Dead Woman Cannot See
the cracked, bisque faces
without remembering
La Isla de las Muñecas ::
she scrolls #atlasobscura,notices the bodies snagged
in branches :: cloth and
leather torsos :: wind-hung ::
bereft of legs :: eye sockets,emptied :: she can't feel
much for dolls she never
wanted :: abstention is not
apathy :: she can't believewhat's never lived :: nor
can she grieve what's left
The Living Dead Woman Is Not a Fan of Wallpaper
sulfur yellow or arsenic green ::
she's read too many stories
where patterns turn obscene ::
she likes a brick wall, caulkingcracked :: embedded fungoids
she need not hack to keep
their bulbs from fruiting ::
she'd feel less accusatoryif paper jonquils hid a door ::
if millefiori loosed in spores ::
let claw hammer release
lit skin :: to bokeh effect ::let dust propagate :: turn
mite to star to death again
Note: AI was not involved in the writing of these sonnets, but the author used the words of the poems as prompts to create the accompanying illustrations. After copying the sonnets into text-to-image prompts in Midjourney, she employed both blending and inpainting tools as well as the external editor to alter elements within the frame. She also utilized other applications (primarily PicsArt and Lightroom).
