Juliet Cook



In this diorama, Bob is cut into pieces,
repositions itself inside different damaged brains.  

While bobbing for apples, she screams
at what lies underneath the core.
Her flickering power lines will bleed into the void.

Some will see the red apples as ball gags inside her mouth.
Some will see the red apples as representations of Hell.
Some will say Hell does not exist. The apple is an underground planetary lair.     

Those below are running in red circles.
Those above will soon fall down and turn red.

In this diorama, a mental conflagration
is connected with the speed of the ceiling fan.
It turns itself off and on, grows into an over rotating form of abuse.

A repetitive malformation in which
her arms are forced behind her back in bed again.
Her sheets are ripped off to strangle her.

Underneath it is crawling with non-existent insects,
waiting for her to fall asleep and open for them,
buzzing her into a non-existent heavenly whore.




In this diorama, a doll head is shoved inside
the trash compacter.
The whole room screams.

Red confetti drips from the ceiling
after revolving around the fan blade
and then being shot down.

The owl only has one wing
and one broken egg.
The horse collapses.

You run into the wall
and it opens, conveys you
into a dark place.  The door
bangs shut and locks itself.

The handles eject regurgitation.
Your feet stick to the floor and turn
forward and back in an endless limbo.

The head board bends back and oozes.
Your mouth opens wide and an insect crawls in and out.           
The bed sheets harden into exoskeletons.




I don't want to lose myself,
at least not all the way,
but this space doesn't like me
liking myself. I must pay
to get anyone to like me.

Like a contorted ejaculation,
a liquid miasma hurls out of his mouth,
hovers in the air and then
flings itself at my face.
It sticks to my skin like a death mask
and laughs and laughs and laughs.

The laughter covers up my screams.








These three poems were inspired by Twin Peaks, my favorite TV show, which initially came out when I was still in high school and had never seen anything so unique on TV. I adored it many years ago and the first poetry chapbook I self-published through my Blood Pudding Press way back in 2006 was called "The Laura Poems" and was poetically based open Laura Palmer. In more recent years, perhaps partly because of 2017's Twin Peaks: The Return, more Twin Peaks inspired poems by various poets seemed to be popping out and getting published all over the place, almost to the point that it started to seem like some sort of a trend. Near the end of 2019, I saw a call for submissions for a Twin Peaks themed poetry anthology called "These Poems Are Not What They Seem" and part of my initial reaction was that I didn't want to dive into this new Twin Peaks poetry trend or backtrack in my writing, when I had loved Twin Peaks and written my small series of poetry inspired by it so many years ago. But then my initial reaction was replaced with a doppelganger that informed me not to abandon something I loved just because it might be a current trend. My doppelganger caused 5 new Twin Peaks inspired poems to emerge from me and I felt drawn to them. One of them was accepted for the anthology, "These Poems Are Not What They Seem", to be published by APEP Publications in Spring 2020. One of them was published in Burning House Press's NO MACHINE WITHOUT A GHOST themed issue. And these three found their home in DIAGRAM.