Kelly Schirmann New Symbolism I get this sketchy feeling about words Sifting through the newspaper (that's just an old metaphor) I want to get away from everyone but I love it out West I love the mountains and how new we pretend they are I love the Western newness Haunted by death from the moment its ribbon is severed To be new is to arrive in the middle of a conversation over who gets what and to be counted Gold is so malleable I make my world statues out of something else God is Malleable I now believe angels came down to earth and bleached their own hair for decades They stood in the same ring of people but never introduced themselves My soul gets small Dumped Epsom salts in the bathtub as the water came down hard on the [plastic] I thought it's moody here and realized I think I'm moody Had nothing to contribute to the message boards Felt bad about it Corralled a few scattered terrors into some art Ran down the dune toward the just-set sun and purpling sky Beach grasses shaking Grazing my raw hurt knees