Exterminating Angel Press

Creative Solutions for Practical Idealists.

Diana Morley

1966, NYC; nothing like it.

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by Diana Morley.

Walking down Broadway
on a sultry June evening
going to an off-Broadway play
with a few friends. I wear
a long white cotton nightgown
with embroidered yellow flowers.

We sweep by two guys
weaving, waving bagged bottles
when one stares at my gown
and says, “Oh, I do believe
an angel has just passed by!”

We giggle passing others
wearing whatever might
provoke a second look
then watch an Albee play
about the modern condition.

We leave somber, returning
to our 7th Avenue loft
over the subway at 28th
mulling over our own ideas
to work out our social ills—

to be honest, none as good
as my white nightgown.

Wimme Saari, a Finn.

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by Diana Morley. sings indigenous music in no hurry— he begins with silence then opens the door where small cold birds sing along, woke by sound carrying over lakes and land iced over for months a random cracked twig as the bass clarinet feels its way as companion to voice all echoes over land so […]

Since you asked.

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by Diana Morley. what two weeks in a hospital bed was like— my mouth so dry I’m careful— I fear losing tongue cells on opening doc explains, my intestine dry as a Lowe’s outdoor plant—adding too much water at first could simply drown it scooping last bit of ice from a paper cup with a […]

Wildfire!

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by Diana Morley.   Fiery ash squalls around my car, whuffling grass, sizzling waxed paper cups on the road. Yellow-flamed paper curls to black clumps, rises up over the hood. I’m stuck in a long line on Highway 99, windows closed tight against sooty whirlwinds. But as leaves and ashes whip about, smoke slips in. […]

Imprints.

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by Diana Morley. Swearing at the arctic blast fast-freezing my nose to toes— laughing at my old fridge whining pitifully ice cubes clinging together, chilling. Late afternoon still a hard shine on the dark-watered lake frozen overnight hiding life and depths. Backyard snow reflecting sunlight into my home till early evening, the bright white cover […]

We can’t use you.

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by Diana Morley. If you don’t have a degree we can’t use you. Thirty matchbook cover cutouts saved, rubberbanded, over decades. I brought them along to each new house tucked into a box with pencils and stamps till they fell off my desk and the band broke. Yellow-and-black comic-book images show one man talking to […]

Tail-end News.

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by Diana Morley. When an arctic air blast nears zero here maybe 60 under my desk near the door best to check tail-end news for the magic of an LOL! to warm up down to my toes. Today totally rewarding. A young Dutch chess player was fined for wearing canvas sneakers at a chess championship—as […]

Magic Missing.

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by Diana Morley. Sun not yet set rampaging winds whip the earth as if wanting to wipe off the whole mess and start over. Pleas from earth keepers torn apart—hanging chads pelted to the ground under a sweeping roar. Our planet, our home no child’s Magic Slate with pull-up plastic.

Old Earth, New Testimony.

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by Diana Morley.   Never thought quakes were useful beyond continents pulling up their hems and resettling into new more comfy positions, but turns out they’re not only dead giveaways of the earth’s mettle but also the metal ball at the true center. I imagine the interface between liquid core and the iron-nickel ball four-hundred […]