Two Poems by Taylor Pannell

Taylor Pannell is an artist, designer, storyteller, and baker. She is the author of several collections including My Bible, Notes to Self, and The Traveller. Her work ignites the imagination, captures emotion, delivers its truths, and dares to ask out loud the questions we're all thinking.  Paired with her own brilliant art, her writing will return to you that sense of wonder you thought you lost. 
-Maureen

That Thursday

Prep time: 17 min
Time: 10:23 am 


Pull off the thin sheet still sweating clammy trap stand
in front of the fan until I pass out get up again begin
frying breakfast. If its august and not a wednesday
almost think about you press my phone cut
an apple instead about the stiff dough in the refrig-
erator which was put there yesterday.


Set temperature 3-twenty-five fahrenheit regret
quickly on a cookie sheet put all six. Bake until it catches
in that nose plasticy melting tucked in smoke the
bread is in a boxed hell. Take extinguisher stuff
that furnace with white dont stay to watch it die.


Let cool out open panes pacing across
sidewalks while they interrupt showers piling
outside its a red and white spectacle. Try blocking
those thoughts headaches and press my temples tell
detective while texting you forgot but I couldnt the truck
backs away. Cut past my door a couple blocks its still too
hot get ice cream not like you cared thats my favorite we
ate it last week.


Note if you regret not telling that stayed to eat catch into sweating
sticky cream smoke you watched judged until today. Try I am not
an idiot I dont forget.

                                                                                                                                                          4/22/19
This Month's Letter

I would rather have my drowsy eyes fixed onto this lethargic motion of your foot in my direction, south-west, while the other remained under a stair. Standing here, water color orange resting upon our arms, testing temperatures for a warm touch - sudden & small. Yet everything seems expanded when I’m peering a perspective of a single bead eye. ​

Cannot change the setting now - it’s all committed like a platonic idea, bonded with reciprocality. A - (place poetic interpretation for idealizing human beings, for sacrifice of desire) - common alter, where we stare at each other awkwardly, then I back up into your chin. All my ideas are probably my own (touching but never completely true).

Please visit me though, flying like a joanna newsom verse, singing from a coast. Hours before you’re late for the store, if you don’t call I’ll never pull my weight to open this (please text me) Funny though - words shuffle together and stick but are never fully alive - only frankenstein personalities. (or documentary bores)

(please bore me without interpretation)

sincerely,

taylor pannell

Check out more of Taylor's great art and writing at:
​https://www.taylorpannell.com