Poetry By Lisa Marie Farver

Shaun Fisher CC




Alley/Allez


Go
Go into the liminal. 

Go until 
You don’t recall 
The name you go by.  

Go 
where cigarette smoke 
blurs lightpoles

Where halogen 
blares out yellow reveries of sodium.

Hush. 

Hear a can scrape 
with the haunt 
of how life leaves a mouth 

Where the nowhere sucks out the somewhere. 

Here is where moth wings split 
then cascade
to commune 
with spent condoms 
on concrete

Where Cinderella’s gymshoes
beckon 
from powerlines.  

Oh, the allure of
limbo 

Go






ATTIC 

Let me sing the things 
I would not even 
let myself think. 

A song for slumber 
afternoons 

When trees I didn’t know
the name of
waved their arms at us from across the street. 

Our third-floor apartment seemed closer to the pavement than a basement unit. 

A museum lined with rescued stuffed animals and stale bottles of urine. 

My housewife cosplay, the apron strings that tethered me 

Between the place 
Where I floated 
Third eye first,
And sunk,
eyes squeezed shut, still scared of the dark 

Things mattered 
because we made them 
With a wave of my wand
of dried allium.

You, taking communion from seared spoonfuls, 
tucking denial’s daisies behind my ear . 

You rode west,
A soldier 
Chasing his own sunset, 

I gathered the candles around me.

A seance for something not yet lost. 

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Lisa Marie Farver is a Chicago-based typewriter poet and performance artist whose work has been featured at the Uptown Poetry Slam, You’re Being Ridiculous, Beast Women, That’s Poetic, the Written on a Napkin Series and more. Lisa was a finalist in the 2025 Gwendolyn Brooks Open Mic Awards and is the founder of Everyone’s Type Poetry.
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