Stephanie Anderson

from The Ditties

A good wound, it fascinates. Folding paper cup stand attached to Double cock keeper. Momentarily has parental knocks.

Why do I think walnut? Lips looking east, reading manga while walking. Dear monster, hello. The repetition is coming in.

Mustard structure in the sun. A triangular shadow. The noontime has some bite, some familiar flights. The pale violet houses.

It’s a day for bowling shoes. The tadpole was always respectful, he says. The golf balls gliding on the too green green. Crowded today.

She says, the task of interpretation is virtually one of translation. The school chimes startle. Pouting, pointing at throat.

Her tiny mustard tights. What does sopa mean? The doors slide open by themselves. A mountain fire to celebrate spring.

She scooches close the chalkboard. France is on the wall. Now his son is three days old. I’d like to talk to you about it but you won’t.

from The Ditties

In the dream I play a wicked witch. We’re on embassy attempt two. Blissfully, there’s a poison for every budget. Tickets?

The tourism TV is blank. Do not ride in the wrong direction, as it would be very dangerous. Why do I feel so.

Everyone sits in yo-yo park, staring at the buds. Water goes up and water goes down. What I love most about my house is who I share it.

Streets and boards and bees and swords. Punk cake, chicks on speed. Abstracted bellows. Brushes. Rubber soles and water colors. Swizzle stick set.

Half basement height beside the boxing gym. It’s basically beer-flavored soda. Mushrooms are better furry. Sing Star Wars again.

I took a picture for you. The experts say she put too much water in the tea. Is milk god blonde? The boss seems tyrannical.

from The Ditties

In the dream, we unbooby trap the house. That is not what a raspberry looks like. The bakers’ poster reads, not by bread alone.

Back to behind the hot dog. Back to shrillness in the mind. Stealing internet from the bus. A fortnight full throttle. It’s non-step.

Menomication for you. The usual guitar gang is out. He brings home magic beans, and I try to stop working. Maybe.

Images introduced in Europe were quite different from the real. Perry made a strong protest against these unfriendly acts.

Americans exercised their military parade, guns. Japanese, on the other hand, arranged sumo wrestlers in lines.

Japanese and Americans experienced lots of culture shock. Figures drawn in Shimoda have a friendly impression.

Articles which she used. She gained nothing at all. A horrible fate was creeping behind. But she firmly refused the order.

She was sent riding in a cage. She felt desperate solitude. She suffered from hemiplegics. She drowned sorrow in the river.

Second daughter of a ship-carpenter. An awful tidal wave. People called her with despise. Drunk out desperately to forget.

They make the bridge several times a day. He also worked for civilization. Japan adapted a seclusion policy.

The movement made Japan to end closing its country. Paints made from coaltar to protect from corrosion. Carried three hundred crews.

It means rice-transport ship in old time. Of course it’s model, but wall is real one. The white part looks like sea cucumbers. Inside, warm.

from The Ditties

Press hacked in the dream. Ladies legendary professional wrestling. Okay yes, the pale in the morning light is pretty.

When we cross the canal, all murmur at the sight. The trees are growing snow. At school, cheerleaders and trombones and sign up here.

The forty bird sings, let’s clean up your hands. False tram trip. Erotic is when you use a feather; kinky is when you use a whole chicken.

We squeeze past the goth club. Petals fall into the canal, coins on water, Caution difference, following the tracks home. Ice cream.

Smile corporation buses. Time to look up the appendix. The evening spent in missives, captions. Carrot and burdock root.

Stephanie Anderson is the author of In the Key of Those Who Can No Longer Organize Their Environments (Horse Less Press), Variants on Binding (forthcoming, The National Poetry Review Press) and several chapbooks. Recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in 6×6, Black Warrior Review, Lana Turner, Map Literary, Tammy, and elsewhere. She edits Projective Industries and lived in Tokyo until recently.
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About Posit Editor

Susan Lewis ( is the Editor-in-chief and founder of Posit ( and the author of ten books and chapbooks, including Zoom (winner of the Washington Prize), Heisenberg's Salon, This Visit, and State of the Union. Her poetry has appeared in anthologies such as Walkers in the City (Rain Taxi), They Said (Black Lawrence Press), and Resist Much, Obey Little (Dispatches/Spuyten Duyvil), as well as in journals such as Agni, Boston Review, The Brooklyn Rail, Conjunctions online, Diode, Interim, New American Writing, and VOLT.