“Elizabeth Harper is a poet living in Chicago and walking on air with her head in the clouds when she is not rolling around on the ground with her mind in the gutter. She is the author of two books of poetry, Love Songs from Psychopaths and Fairy Tales Gone Awry. She is the newest member of Polyrhythmic—A Chicago Arts Collective—which hosts an open mic night at Trace, 3714 N Clark, on Tuesday nights. She has read at many venues around town including Phyllis’ Musical Inn, Trace, Mercury Café, The Spot, Monarte Gallery, Silvie’s, The Spare Room, The Heartland Café, Black Rock Bar, Jaks Tap, and Weeds. She participated in The Chicago Calling Festival in 2006 and 2007, and more recently she participated in the Poetry Bomb as a poetry bomber standing out by the Water Tower screaming poetry at confused pedestrians.”
Frigging Fridge Poetry
drunk suit
cool breast
no ache will stop
the drunk dreaming
of a blue producer
read moan think play
smell forest chant
sad man run to bed
milky and mean in there
delirious chocolate pinkness
beat peach
sweet crush
the diamond apparatus
juicy knife manipulates
red symphony
white fluff hissing
spray show
under black stare
to be you
when she waxed mad
recall vision
lather friend
enormous language
gorgeous eternity
go fall pant
lick lazy skin
and hot sweat
what it takes
bitter ache
shine scream
beauty tongue
always chain
purple storm
rock over will
time void head
luscious languid
watch need on TV
then rust away
rip out arm
yet can
they sing
from sleep
never elaborate through here
her like part of a ship
he was about to swim in the water
men at sea
you are all leg
eat the sky
power shadows sits above
worshipful sausages
beneath the soaring sun
shake garden barefeet drool kiss
though like puppy from pound
said after blow to butt
easy these smooth frantic delicate
petals like life like girl
do not ask or tell
honey use a club
I am weak with want
were I as he
none would fiddle for you
red and raw
I hit your car
she has the hair of a goddess
her dress whispers still
but the moment is gone
smear finger with blood
behind the sordid place
I heave and incubate true
leave light on
drive into the darkness
let up by and by
winter spring ding
did he see who shot him
so say yous
do my ass
do me pole
I’m a MySpace Addict
Will you be my friend?
Who can I ask to be my friend?
I hope someone cool asks to be my friend.
When is my favorite band playing?
I’ll leave a comment about them.
Maybe someone will leave a comment about me.
I have 135 friends.
I’m going to get more and more friends.
What can I write in my blog?
I can choose from a long list of moods
and an animated smiley face will illustrate
the mood I choose.
I can let everyone know what book I’m reading
and what cd I’m listening to.
Look. I choose it from the list
and the picture shows up in my blog.
This is so cool.
I’ll let everyone know about my poetry reading.
I’ll send out a bulletin.
I’ll do a search on a name and try to find my old boyfriend.
Look there he is. He doesn’t have as many friends as I do.
He’s going bald. His wife is fat. They have dogs.
Look I have new event invites.
There are so many events to go to.
How will I decide what to go to?
I guess it depends on my work schedule
and where I can get a cab home from.
Maybe I’ll meet some cute guys and then
I can do a search on their names and ask them
to be my friends on MySpace.
I better make a point of remembering
their names correctly or at least
what they look like.
All these guys I don’t know
are asking to be my friends.
Their pictures look weird
like those that come in the picture frames
you buy at Walgreens.
They could be stupid and creepy.
Maybe I should accept them as friends
because they’re interested in my poetry.
One guy sent me a message.
He says that he is 20-something and
Puerto Rican with green eyes and
hangs on the Northwest side of Chicago.
He says that I seem like a freaky, bad girl
and that I should definitely get back to him.
Gee, I don’t know.
I accepted this one guy as my friend.
I actually felt weird about it,
but then I decided I should go ahead
and accept him
because I need
to build my audience.
He’s sent me 7 messages just today.
“I’m still up. Call me.”
“Meet me for a drink.”
“Pick up the phone.”
“Let’s hook up.”
“We make the perfect couple.”
I’ve never met this person before.
I actually emailed him and asked him
if he had seen me read before, or if we had met,
or if we had friends in common.
He said, no, he just was looking
for cool people in Chicago.
His profile says he is nocturnal
and likes cats and is looking for nice ladies.
Maybe he’s a vampire.
His other friends are either dominatrixes or
suicidal goth girls.
I’m going to delete him from my friends.
That’s the first time I ever deleted anybody.
But I’m thinking he could be my first
MySpace stalker.
Problem Child
probe emblem
child
pro blend
mild chide
prole blemish
chilled
proper rob limn
kid hill
prom bleach
ill did
per able much
idle
press oblique
muddle change hide
Frigging Fridge Poetry
drunk suit
cool breast
no ache will stop
the drunk dreaming
of a blue producer
read moan think play
smell forest chant
sad man run to bed
milky and mean in there
delirious chocolate pinkness
beat peach
sweet crush
the diamond apparatus
juicy knife manipulates
red symphony
white fluff hissing
spray show
under black stare
to be you
when she waxed mad
recall vision
lather friend
enormous language
gorgeous eternity
go fall pant
lick lazy skin
and hot sweat
what it takes
bitter ache
shine scream
beauty tongue
always chain
purple storm
rock over will
time void head
luscious languid
watch need on TV
then rust away
rip out arm
yet can
they sing
from sleep
never elaborate through here
her like part of a ship
he was about to swim in the water
men at sea
you are all leg
eat the sky
power shadows sits above
worshipful sausages
beneath the soaring sun
shake garden barefeet drool kiss
though like puppy from pound
said after blow to butt
easy these smooth frantic delicate
petals like life like girl
do not ask or tell
honey use a club
I am weak with want
were I as he
none would fiddle for you
red and raw
I hit your car
she has the hair of a goddess
her dress whispers still
but the moment is gone
smear finger with blood
behind the sordid place
I heave and incubate true
leave light on
drive into the darkness
let up by and by
winter spring ding
did he see who shot him
so say yous
do my ass
do me pole
I’m a MySpace Addict
Will you be my friend?
Who can I ask to be my friend?
I hope someone cool asks to be my friend.
When is my favorite band playing?
I’ll leave a comment about them.
Maybe someone will leave a comment about me.
I have 135 friends.
I’m going to get more and more friends.
What can I write in my blog?
I can choose from a long list of moods
and an animated smiley face will illustrate
the mood I choose.
I can let everyone know what book I’m reading
and what cd I’m listening to.
Look. I choose it from the list
and the picture shows up in my blog.
This is so cool.
I’ll let everyone know about my poetry reading.
I’ll send out a bulletin.
I’ll do a search on a name and try to find my old boyfriend.
Look there he is. He doesn’t have as many friends as I do.
He’s going bald. His wife is fat. They have dogs.
Look I have new event invites.
There are so many events to go to.
How will I decide what to go to?
I guess it depends on my work schedule
and where I can get a cab home from.
Maybe I’ll meet some cute guys and then
I can do a search on their names and ask them
to be my friends on MySpace.
I better make a point of remembering
their names correctly or at least
what they look like.
All these guys I don’t know
are asking to be my friends.
Their pictures look weird
like those that come in the picture frames
you buy at Walgreens.
They could be stupid and creepy.
Maybe I should accept them as friends
because they’re interested in my poetry.
One guy sent me a message.
He says that he is 20-something and
Puerto Rican with green eyes and
hangs on the Northwest side of Chicago.
He says that I seem like a freaky, bad girl
and that I should definitely get back to him.
Gee, I don’t know.
I accepted this one guy as my friend.
I actually felt weird about it,
but then I decided I should go ahead
and accept him
because I need
to build my audience.
He’s sent me 7 messages just today.
“I’m still up. Call me.”
“Meet me for a drink.”
“Pick up the phone.”
“Let’s hook up.”
“We make the perfect couple.”
I’ve never met this person before.
I actually emailed him and asked him
if he had seen me read before, or if we had met,
or if we had friends in common.
He said, no, he just was looking
for cool people in Chicago.
His profile says he is nocturnal
and likes cats and is looking for nice ladies.
Maybe he’s a vampire.
His other friends are either dominatrixes or
suicidal goth girls.
I’m going to delete him from my friends.
That’s the first time I ever deleted anybody.
But I’m thinking he could be my first
MySpace stalker.
Problem Child
probe emblem
child
pro blend
mild chide
prole blemish
chilled
proper rob limn
kid hill
prom bleach
ill did
per able much
idle
press oblique
muddle change hide
