Lisa Albers

The Eyes Have It

My eyes burn holes through old locks. Super

human, I reach up and grab planes

with my hands. Catch bullets in my teeth.

Snatch you from your hiding place, set you down

in the Hall of Justice. Now meet what they mete.

American Pop Culture

Scratch this: Scratch the itch that won’t catch: Scratch ‘n’ sniff.


on indelible decal framed


edged. Super

human treadmill scheme.

In dreams we meat our fakir.

American Tourister waves to the maitre d’ while you go

where you want to

in a Yukon Canoe. The curls bounce on the moon’s

shoulders, sprinkling cheese.

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