DeWitt Brinson: How do you feel when you dance?

Jacqueline Kari: Daring. Dated. Dizzy. Draw tight the curtains.

DB: How do you feel when you date?

JK: The roast beef:

My own mortality: 2013! We made it! But implicit in the triumph is the death.

The man:

Happy. Poor. Like a rose could grow outta my grave & tangle in his briar.

DB: And when you are dated?

JK: Ouch, like a heel. See also: my own mortality; curtains; happy; poor.

DB: What is a daddy?

JK: A dappling. Of money. Or love! Can’t-buy-me—

DB: When are you daring?

JK: When no one’s listening. Or everyone. When tripping. More valiant than daring, perhaps.

DB: Why are they darlings?

JK: Because they’re so much more clever.

DB: Who is in darkness?

JK: The man with the penknife. The bird who’s a-watchin’. The devil/his riddles.

DB: Do you dawdle?

JK: I liked dolls as a child; they must dawdle, so clumsy. And do I? With a lost watch. I loiter not litter; I troll

DB: Are you a daughter?

JK: A daughter, oh, daughter. A body so well-confined.

DB: Ask the universe a helpful question.


            What is deeper than the sea?




interviewed by the tender, young, virile writer

DeWitt Brinson

Jacqueline Kari is completing her MFA at Louisiana State University. She is a poet and translator and an amateur print-, paper-, and bookmaker. She has published two chapbooks of translations, and her work has appeared in RealPoetik, Lana Turner, The Cambridge Literary Review and is forthcoming in Smoking Glue Gun.